On the advent of her coronation, Princess "Derpy" De Raptura continues to adjust to life as Equestria's newest ruler, but soon finds that the power she was granted requires a greater sacrifice than she could ever have thought possible.
By her mere existence, Princess "Derpy" De Raptura ushers in a new era in Equestria's history. The first commoner to ascend the throne, the first new monarch of Equestria for more than two thousand years, Derpy faces the unenviable task of bending a fractious and ambitious political establishment to her will when her experience amounts to little more than planning the best delivery route each day.
Yet it seems that Derpy must face the true price her new-found power demands. To raise the sun she must love the whole world, but to give that love she must endure a burden far greater than she could possibly imagine.
As Derpy stared up at the structure towering over her she realised that this description hardly did Canterlot Castle justice, but it was all that she could bring to mind. Enormous. Magnificent. Frankly, it was huge. And more than a little scary.
When she'd been offered the opportunity to courier a package to the palace she'd jumped without even a thought; it was a sign, she'd decided. The first inkling of advancement in a career that had, up to now, been a single gigantic, never-ending disaster. A disaster of proportions not dissimilar to the palace before her in fact. Enormous. Magnificent in scale if not outcome. Huge.
Scary.
That morning, when her boss had called her into the office before her round, she'd thought she was going to be fired. Oh she'd never had any official complaints, not even that time she'd accidentally destroyed the entire frontage of the Carousel Boutique, but the accidents had always weighed on her conscience. Always nagged at her. Sometimes she'd get yelled at when she made a particularly big mess, but the complaints never seemed to get to her employer.
Boss had never mentioned all the little slips, but she'd been careful to write them up anyway just in case they ever came up. That morning Derpy had worried that maybe, just maybe, all that collected karma had finally piled up high enough to fall on her. Instead she'd been given a package and told in no uncertain terms to get to the palace and deliver it as quickly as possibly.
And now she stood with that package weighing on her back – more in a metaphorical sense than any other, for it was really quite light – staring up at the needle-like towers of Canterlot Castle, seat of government, home of the Princesses and source of everything intimidating in her life at that moment. Yet for all that they were beautiful, their marble facades glowing a deep orange against the dark bulk of Canter Peak in the bright evening sun.
The metallic ring of an approaching guard's steel-shod hooves dragged Derpy back into the real world. She blinked and tried to compose herself before turning to the guard with a broad smile. As she had long ago come to expect from anyone who met her for the first time, at the sight of her grinning face he faltered slightly and tilted his head.
"May I help you?"
"Yep!" Derpy hefted the package from her saddlebag and held it up to the guard's face. He backed away lest it hit his snout. "I'm here to deliver this."
The guard stared at the package for a moment, taking in the crudely written label and simple brown paper wrapping all tied up with string. It was obviously the work of a foal, likely the foal of someone important too, which was probably why her boss had been so keen to have it delivered quickly.
"Oh. Mail room, straight ahead for a few hundred yards and then follow the signs." He turned away with a snort and sauntered back to his post. "And no flying in the grounds without permission."
"Don't I have to sign–"
"Only if you're an assassin."
"Oh." Derpy put the package back in her pack and wandered through the gates. The courtyard beyond was filled with the bustle of ponies going about their apparently urgent business, for none slowed to allow her passage or even seemed to notice Derpy as she trotted between them. A few times they bumped into her, but before she could apologise they had left without even acknowledging her. Derpy just smiled after them and kept walking.
Soon though she realised that, thanks to all the bumping and pushing, she'd got completely turned around and was nowhere near the path the guard had indicated. Normally Derpy would fly up over the crowd to get her bearings, but the guard had been quite clear on that point. Instead she wandered toward a nearby wall for shelter from the crowd and eventually found herself before a door, though no signs gave any clue of where it might lead. Derpy tried asking after a few passers-by but they quickly dismissed her with a wave of a hoof, though one was kind enough to smile along with it. She didn't mind. Chances were she could find what she was after inside, perhaps from another guard.
Derpy pushed the door open and stepped through into a dimly lit interior. An anteroom opened onto a short corridor that ended in a stout but serviceable door. Both seemed to be little-used if the thin film of dust on the floor was any indication. The silence of the room was shocking after the commotion of the courtyard and Derpy could feel her ears drooping unprovoked, as if the quiet itself was some sort of existential threat.
Hoofbeats echoed in the corridor, the sound of another pony approaching her temporary sanctuary. Perhaps there was another way. She backed toward the door, but before she could open it to escape another door at the far end of the corridor popped open and a short, dark-coated mare trotted through.
"Oh." The mare slowed as she spotted Derpy. She trotted up to the Pegasus and smiled at her. "Might I assist you, lady pegasus? You appear lost."
"Kinda," Derpy replied, lowering her head. This unicorn seemed to be eyeing her saddlebags. "I was looking for the mail room, I can just–"
"A courier! Let none stay these noble messengers from their appointed rounds lest doom and calamity fall upon their heads! No wait, that was the motto in Thunderhead's time..." The unicorn turned, her pale mane bobbing as she shook her head, apparently having forgotten Derpy as she mused. Then her eyes widened and she shot the mailmare a curious glance. "Is that how you came hence? You are bringing a package to the palace?"
"It says for the Princess. Dunno what's in it, we're not allowed to look."
"I see." The mare tapped her chin and seemed to reach a decision. A grin crossed her face. "Come, I shall take you to whom might render assistance!"
Head bobbing and ears forward the mare led Derpy back along the corridor and into the servant-stuffed warren of Canterlot Castle. Derpy soon found herself hopelessly lost in the twists and turns of the back-ways and narrow corridors they travelled and wondered how she would ever find her way out of the palace again. Getting trapped here forever didn't seem like it'd be all that much fun.
Her escort remained silent the entire journey, a strange sort of melancholy having settled about her as soon as they turned back to the castle. Occasionally she would glance out of a narrow window, especially when they faced to the south or west, as if she was looking for something in particular. The only thing Derpy knew of in that direction was Ponyville and she was sure this beautiful Canterlot mare would find nothing interesting there.
By the fourth or fifth flight of stairs Derpy realised they weren't going anywhere near the mail room. The corridors were wider here, and quieter, hung with flags and tapestries and lit by broad windows along one side or the other. They also tended to curve around a lot more. She tried to ask where they were going, but the unicorn ignored Derpy's entreaties and so silence fell between them again. Just moments later they paused outside a large, gaily decorated door bearing the twin crests of the diarch, a sun and moon interposed.
Derpy blinked and swallowed and her ears did their best to try and flop against her head. She forced them forward as the unicorn pounded on the door, which opened a moment later at the hoof of a servant in a bright red coat. He glared at Derpy, then perked up as he saw the unicorn.
"Ma'am?"
"We require entry," the unicorn said with a curious grin. She cocked an eyebrow at Derpy. "Ask no questions and be on your way."
"As you wish, Lady Sable," the servant said through a deep bow. He backed away, pulling the doors open with him and the unicorn cantered through. Derpy followed a few cautious steps behind her, looking all over as she walked. The room beyond was opulent, its towering windows casting their golden light on pale blue and cream walls trimmed in gold and silver. High above a ceiling bore the stylised crest of the reigning diarchy surrounded by idealised representatives of each of the pony tribes. Definitely not the mail room.
She was led through the broad, deeply carpeted room to another set of doors that opened under the faint glow of her companion's magic. Beyond lay a broad corridor, one wall constructed almost entirely of glass, the other lined with a series of doors leading to Celestia-knew where. And, Derpy had begun to suspect, Celestia probably did know where and might even be lurking behind one of them, ready to jump out at her at any moment. Of the servant there was no sign.
As the door closed behind them her escort slowed and then stopped, eyes fixed on the landscape beyond the window. Derpy was used to impressive aerial views – she was a pegasus, after all – but a view that might be the normal background of her life when she was flying suddenly became very impressive when seen from behind glass. It was as if the hoof-built structure somehow transformed mere altitude from mundane to spectacular.
"It's amazing," she offered. The unicorn by her side nodded slowly before turning from it.
"It is likely the last time I shall see it," she said quietly. Her eyes met Derpy's – just about – and she smiled without humour. "Forgive me little one, I am afraid I have deceived you, for I am rather greater than I appear."
"I dunno, I think I might be taller than youuu..."
Derpy's voice trailed off as the pony before her melted into a cloud of impenetrable darkness. Black and blue mist chased around a quietly whispering core of light before suddenly reforming into a rather larger pony. Wings spread wide and a mane filled with the light of an infinite field of stars flowed across the corridor, and Princess Luna looked down at Derpy with eyes that seemed almost on the verge of tears.
"Oh."
"That is often the reaction of ponies to whom I am so revealed," Princess Luna replied. "Forgive my deception. I was set to travel out incognito when I stumbled across you and did not wish to scare you away."
"You wouldn't have scared me," Derpy said as fast as she could manage. Her shivering legs told a different story, but she refused to let them get the better of her now. To keep her mind off the thought of running away she swallowed hard and started nosing at her saddlebags. "If you want to take the package now I need you to sign–"
"Nay, little one, it is for another Princess than I." Luna turned and strode along the corridor, her long gait making it difficult to for Derpy to keep up unless she fluttered her wings.
"How can you be sure?"
"Let us say that the last time such a package was addressed to me, the postage stamp had yet to be invented."
"Oh." Derpy didn't need to know much history to realise how long ago that meant. She remained silent as they approached another set of doors at the end of the corridor, already ajar and allowing a slender stream of light to shine on the wall alongside. Luna didn't even hesitate as they reached the door but simply cast it aside and marched through.
"Sister, I bring tidings!"
Princess Celestia, arrayed in all her glory, looked up for only as long as it took to register Derpy's presence before turning her attention back to the stallion dancing nervously before her. "Have her put it on the table. Alabast, are you telling me that you can't find Twilight anywhere?"
"No your highness," the stallion replied. His hooves stopped trapping at the floor and he shot Derpy a wary glance. "We've had ponies looking for her all over the city. It's as if she's completely disappeared."
"Probably lost herself in some hidden cache in the library again," Celestia said, with a slight smile and a shake of her head. She turned from the stallion and to her sister. "Of all the times she would choose to indulge herself, it would be a day such as this."
"Such is fate, sister," Luna replied with a sad smile of her own. She settled down on a pile of cushions in the corner and composed herself.
"Luna, I thought you travelled to visit–"
"I did, until I met this little one. She had found her way into the east entrance."
"That should have been impossible!"
"It was," Luna replied, with a hint of reproach that almost masked the uncertainty in her voice. "I checked the wards myself not more than a week ago. Nevertheless, there she was."
"And so you brought her here rather than undertake your journey." Celestia's voice seemed... dead. Empty, as if acknowledging the existence of something without admitting its truth.
"It seemed I could do no other."
"I am so very sorry, Luna."
"Perhaps it is for the best. Nothing can last forever, after all." Luna smiled again. Her hoof had slipped to her cheek. "Yet I know I shall see her again. To think she of all ponies would be my last on this earth."
Celestia took a long breath and closed her eyes as she exhaled. She walked to the window and stared at the sun, straight at it without blinking. Derpy wondered how she could do that as she carefully deposited her package on the desk.
"Such is fate," Celestia echoed, her voice blending in the background as Derpy tried to work out how she'd escape the palace now her job was done.
Something rustled behind her, the sound of wings spreading. When Derpy turned again Princess Celestia was staring straight at her, moving toward her with a curious expression. Derpy held up a scrap of paper and a pen as if it would somehow shield her from the attentions of her liege.
"You need to sign." Her voice trembled. It wasn't every day she had a princess staring into her soul. Celestia gave the paper a confused look and then shook her head.
"What is your name, little carrier of parcels?"
"Derpy. Uh, Ditzy Thunderpeal Hooves, highness, but everyone calls me Derpy, or Ditzy Doo sometimes. Or just Ditzy. I don't mind, I like all the names."
"Derpy."
Celestia frowned, as if such an expression could appear on that perfectly formed face. At first Derpy thought the Princess disapproved of her name, but it soon became clear that she was simply lost in thought. She stepped away from the mail mare and glanced at Luna before speaking again.
"We can no longer assume Twilight will be found in time, Luna."
"Then we are lost," Luna replied. She looked over to Celestia, then between the princess and Derpy, and suddenly raised her eyebrows. "Tia, surely you're not–"
"I am," she said quietly.
"Celestia, she knows nothing! By any natural law– you– you cannot do this!"
"I can. I must."
"Twilight might still be found–"
"We know she shall not be! No other here shall suffice, none suitable will be found in time. Look at her, Luna. Look at her heart! She found a way to us when no other could. It is fate that she should be here now and I must take this chance, or everything will be undone." Celestia turned back to Derpy, ignoring her sister's futile protests. A strange bright light sprang from her eyes, its ethereal glow flowing like tears down her cheeks. "I am so very sorry, young one. Please forgive me. I have no choice left."
Light sprang up around Derpy before she could reply, moving across her skin and tickling at her coat like a gentle breeze. She giggled until she saw the sadness in Celestia's eyes. The alicorn was weeping now, real tears flowing and mingling with their diaphanous counterparts. She closed her eyes and spoke again.
"Forgive me."
And then it was as if the sun rose all around her and poured its fire into her very bones.
* * *
"Thunderpeal?"
Derpy looked up from her reverie – and the cup of tea that had apparently contained it – and gave Twilight a cautious smile.
"Out of everything I just told you that's the bit that got your attention?"
"Well, yeah," Twilight replied. She chuckled into her cup as she took a sip. "I mean, I'm used to all sorts of magic. There's not a week gone by where I'm not facing down some interdimensional monstrosity, overpowered badguy or parathaumic energy cascade event, but that name... I just never saw you as a Thunderpeal, somehow. I wonder why she didn't use it in her proclamations."
"She had a lot on her mind," Derpy replied.
Twilight took another sip of her tea, her motions slowing as her mind went over the story.
"It must have hurt. Magic of that strength is never much fun."
"Having a horn suddenly sprout out of my head wasn't," the Princess replied, tapping her forehead. "But honestly? Between all the accidental lightning and crashing into things I've felt a lot worse."
Twilight gave her a skeptical look and seemed about to reply, but then her mouth shut with a quiet click of her teeth and she very deliberately looked away. Derpy laughed. Much to her relief Twilight joined her a moment later and soon the room felt light again.
They fell silent then, each lost in thought. Derpy glanced toward the broad windows of her study, taking in the brightly sunlit vista of the world beyond and the slowly rising sun hanging above it all. It had been two days since she'd first raised it. Just two days and it felt as natural as getting up in the morning.
Twilight took a breath and her teacup tinkled as she placed it gently in its saucer. "I can't imagine how you felt afterwards."
"You don't need to," Derpy replied. She could still feel the faintest lingering sense of Twilight's mind in her own. Like the scent of a long-departed flower.
"No, I suppose not." For a moment Twilight's eyes lost their focus, as if she were looking at some distant place. Derpy knew she was trying to recall memories that weren't her own. The mage shook her head and bit her lip. "It's not really like memory, it's more like an impression. Like I should be able to remember but I can't quite bring it to mind. And I keep having these odd dreams."
"I've had the same," Derpy replied. She swirled her cup and wondered when she'd be able to use her magic to drink from it. "I had a nightmare about losing my horn and all my magic last night. I think that might have been one of yours."
A slight nod confirmed the statement. Twilight was lost in her thoughts again, her prodigious mind working over the possibilities and outcomes of their brief experience together.
"And that's another thing," Derpy said. "I'd no idea what prodigious meant until now."
"Wha?"
Derpy shook her head and smiled. "It doesn't matter."
Silence again, broken only by the faint whisper of wind around her towering home and the distant bark of a guard sergeant bossing his troops around for the changing of the guard. They'd probably have the House Guard marching band out today. Derpy had enjoyed watching them when she'd visited Canterlot several years ago, perhaps she should go out and watch again. She'd have a much better view this time.
Twilight toyed with her cup, forgoing her magic to do so. She kept glancing at the window as if watching the passage of time. After a few rounds of fiddling and staring she cleared her throat.
"We still need to organise your coronation." She pushed the teacup to one side, deliberately placing herself away from even that little pleasure. After a moment's thought Derpy did likewise.
"Can't we skip it? It's pretty obvious I'm the Princess now."
Twilight giggled. She had to look away to force the smile from her face. "It's obvious to you and me but there's a few odd laws that say otherwise. Parliament requires a crowned monarch to function, there are a few treaties that were worded in such a way that there needs to be some form of officially approved sitting royal around for them to remain in effect. Oddly the nobility don't seem to mind all that much, though I heard some of them pushing to have you crowned Queen instead."
"I dunno, queens are always evil aren't they?" Derpy toyed with her cup, though she had no idea when she'd pulled it back. She gave up pretending and took another sip of her tea even though it was cold by now. "I don't think I could be evil. I've not got the brains for it."
"The main problem..." Twilight spoke slowly, ignoring Derpy's crack about intelligence. Her whole body had tensed just a little. She shook her head and shoulders and forged on. "The only problem is that there hasn't been a coronation for more than a thousand years. Nopony knows how the ceremony was performed or if there even was one. The only precedent in living memory is the coronation of the Duke of Canterlot."
"Couldn't we just copy that?"
"Not really. Apparently it's considered bad form." Twilight's eyes strayed to the window again. "I thought about duplicating some elements of the Crystal Empire's ceremony but they spent most of their time talking about how beautiful the crystal heart is. There's only five minutes spent on the coronation. Not that they'll be having one any time soon."
"No?"
"They declared a republic the day after Celestia– last I heard they'd elected a former member of the EGC as interim president while they work out what to do next. She seems to be handling things quite well so far." Twilight pondered her hooves. "Which still leaves us as we were before, without any idea of how the coronation is meant to go."
"So make one up? I know you've already thought about it Twilight, you're a smart pony. You're half way to fixing things like this before anyone else has even noticed there's a problem."
The sight of Twilight preening at the praise, even if only for a moment, brought another smile to Derpy's face. She made a mental note to remember this if she ever needed to extract another favour from the arch mage. Her arch mage. Again the oddity of the situation and how quickly it had become normal filled her mind to the point that she didn't even notice Twilight's response.
"Sorry, I– Sorry." Derpy pushed her empty tea cup away and gave her full attention to Twilight. Hopefully the unicorn would see sense and refill it soon.
"I said I'd considered a few possibilities for the ceremony." A pile of folders floated from beneath the table, though heavens knew how Twilight had managed to get them there in the first place. Derpy pulled one at random and flipped it open while Twilight continued to speak. "One option would be a joint ceremony crowning yourself and the Duchess of Canterlot at the same time, that way we could shorten things down and not have so much to– to make up."
"I like the sound of that," Derpy replied as she scanned the page. Her gaze caught on a particular sentence and she laughed. "Twilight, why does this have an oath sworn on a muffin?"
"I, ah– how did–" Twilight quickly snatched the folder away. "I'm sorry, I was writing these all night. I must have been tired."
"I do like the odd muffin now and then, but I've never seen poetry about one."
"I'll just get rid of that." Gripped in Twilights aura, the folder floated up into the air and glowed briefly before disappearing in a flash of fire.
"I never said it was bad poetry," Derpy replied as the flame died down. A few flakes of ash drifted away to the carpet, a sad remnant of a tale briefly glimpsed. The Princess watched until they were lost in the pile. "I guess something simple would be best."
"As you wish, Princess." Twilight gave a formal bow that lasted just long enough to tweak Derpy's sense of annoyance without actually letting her express it. Just as she was about to complain, Twilight looked up and stuck out her tongue.
"You're incorrigible," she muttered, returning to the folders. Each contained an order of ceremonies that seemed mostly alien to her no matter how simple they might be. Motions she had to make, oaths to ancient gods she'd never even heard of, dedications to the harmony and unity of Equestria... Derpy stared at the parchment in front of her but her mind was already drifting back to an earlier thought.
She found herself looking out of the window again, watching a wing of pegasi as they slowly cleared another front of rogue weather bearing down on Canterlot. In the aftermath of what had been all but officially labelled the Long Night, the weather over Canterlot had been efficiently managed to provide a near-perfect summer despite the tang of frost that still hung in the air. Yet nature kept trying to change that.
"Twilight?" Derpy stood and walked to the window. If she looked carefully she could see a faint wall of grey cloud ringing the horizon. "What's the weather like in the rest of the country?"
"I'm not entirely sure. Large parts are still cut off for all but military communication and they seem to be reluctant to share information with the privy council. Not that I blame them, all things considered." Twilight trotted to Derpy's side and looked up at the sky with her. "If what I saw in Ponyville is any indication a lot of areas will be having a pretty hard time."
"Have the Canterlot weather teams moved where they can do more good."
"Uh. Yes, of course. H-highness." Twilight's magic seized a sheet of parchment and a quill and the order was written up in moments. The scroll disappeared in a flash, dispatched to whoever took care of such things. The Princess wondered when she'd be able to do that.
"And," Derpy added, turning from the window with a smile. "Come up with a plan that keeps the coronation indoors or move it somewhere other than the city. I suspect it might be a bit wet."
She sat at her desk again. Her desk, already stacked with her notes and her letters. Twilight was pouring another cup of tea by the time Derpy had settled herself, giving the new Princess enough time to settle her thoughts along with her body. She lifted her cup to her lips and took a delicate sip.
"There's also the issue of the Duchess of Canterlot," Twilight said as she poured her own cup. "Sparkler seems a little reluctant to take on the role."
"I know, she all but told me she didn't want it a couple of days ago." Derpy shrugged and tilted her head to peer at the ceiling, idly wondering if she should have the celestial motif replaced with something less showy. Probably not. "She has a choice. I'll support her no matter what she does."
"Well. I have to confess I took the liberty of extending a royal invitation for a very special pony to design her investiture outfit. It might help convince her."
Derpy raised an eyebrow, but Twilight just smiled as she sipped her tea. A few minutes later, with the weather now abandoned to nature's capricious grasp, the first drops of storm rain fell against the study windows.
"Well now, that's most of the measurements done. What sort of ensemble were we considering? Something off the shoulder, perhaps? I understand capes are making a return amongst the nobility, but on the other hoof to be the Duchess of Canterlot means leading the herd rather than following it, so perhaps something a little more– Lady Amethyst?"
Rarity lightly tapped a rolled up measuring tape on Sparkler's head.
"Wake up, darling!"
The younger unicorn snapped her eyes away from the the storm that pelted the windows of her apartment. Lightning flickered in the low cloud, its answering thunder barely heard above the steady roar of falling rain.
"Sorry. I was just thinking." Sparkler shifted a touch, longing to scratch an itch on her side but unable to move thanks to the cats-cradle of measuring tapes wrapped around her body. The structure felt almost obscene, hugging as it did every curve and shape of her form, and yet strangely alluring.
"I can see that. Cel– heaven knows where this storm popped up from, the schedule said there wasn't one due for weeks, but I suppose with everything we've been through in the last few days it's unrealistic to expect perfect organisation." Rarity idly poked a hoof at Sparkler's shoulder as she adjusted her tapes, the apparently accidental motion bringing almost instant relief to the young mare's irritation. "But never mind the weather. We were discussing your outfit."
"Oh. How could I forget."
"I have an absolutely delicious concept in mind already," Rarity continued, oblivious to the sarcasm in Sparkler's voice. "It's only going to take a little tweak to match your mark, which I must say is really rather stunning. Naturally I will have to expend some considerable effort in the execution, but your mother the Princess has so graciously allowed the use of any resources I require from the palace, so I should have your dress ready in plenty of time."
My mother the princess, Sparkler thought. It felt like a single word the way Rarity had said it. She tried to raise a hoof without dislodging the bonds that measured her. "I don't–"
"On the other hoof, perhaps so daring and adventurous a design would be a little too outré for an official investiture of such import. Something more traditional might be appropriate, yes?"
"Miss Rarity–"
"Then again! You are to be invested with the most powerful seat in the land, one would hardly dare appear in anything less than the most exquisite, divine..." A puzzled frown crossed Rarity's features and she turned to face Sparkler full on. "Did you say something darling? I'm afraid I was rather lost in the flow."
"I'm not going through with it."
Rarity's eyes widened a fraction and with a sharp intake of breath she dropped her tape. The designer shook her head and backed away a few steps, eyes surreptitiously swinging back and forth for a convenient couch to collapse on, though nothing presented itself as an easy target.
"Oh my dear child, why ever not? Surely you must understand the responsibility–"
"That's just it, I don't want the responsibility! I'm not a duchess!"
"I see."
Rarity picked up her tape and looped it around Sparkler's neck. With just the steady patter of rain for accompaniment she began to hum as she made a note of the measurement before returning to fuss with the other tapes. Now and then she would glance at Sparkler with an odd frown, only to look away when she realised she was being watched.
"Well I do believe that's all of it. When we're done here I'll have a look at Dinky since I'm sure she's grown quite a bit in the last year." The tapes whipped away from Sparkler and into a series of neat rolls that Rarity tucked away in her bag. "You've lost a little weight since last time. University taking its toll?"
"I guess."
"It must be so terribly lonely spending so much time away from your family like that. Heaven knows when I went to university I missed mine dreadfully." She frowned and paused for a moment to tap her chin. "Though I really couldn't tell you why."
Rarity continued humming as she rearranged her makeshift workshop, laying out a fresh set of order sheets from some apparently limitless supply hiding amongst her equipment, to which she added a few details with a flourish of her pen.
"I'm used to it," Sparkler said, watching as Rarity worked. She wandered over to a couch and sat down while rarity continued with her work. She had set up a portable drafting table and was casually marshalling a small squadron of pencils around her head while she pondered a book of fabric samples. "I mean, I spent most of my life in an orphanage and you don't really make 'connections' in a place like that, so a couple more years away from home is hardly gonna hurt."
"How very tragic," Rarity mused, flashing Sparkler a suitably morose and caring glance before turning back to her design. Pencils flashed through the air and struck the page with astounding ferocity. "Yes, something with a little diamond motif here and there. How do you feel about those capes, dear?"
"They look silly."
"Perhaps one would be a little too much. Yes, something understated, yet adventurous. Sleek, practical, yet telling the world here I am and I sparkle. Yes, yes this is wonderful! If nothing else this will make a fine graduation dress."
"But– wha?"
Rarity turned from the drawing. Somehow she'd found time to perch a pair of spectacles on her snout and now she peered at Sparkler over their ornate red rims, one eyebrow raised in query. "Something the matter, darling?"
"I– I thought you'd try and talk me into it. The Duchess thing, I mean." Sparkler hung her head. She heard Rarity place her pencils on the table and a moment later the couch shifted as the designer sat down next to her.
"Why ever would I do that?"
"It's kinda a big deal." She felt a gentle hoof on her shoulder and fought the urge to shrug it off. "I figured that's the reason mom brought you here."
"Oh darling no!" Rarity tossed her mane with a grace that would have made the most cynical of fashion critics burst into tears. She took one of Sparklers hooves in her own and looked her square in the face. "I would never presume to talk you into something you didn't want! Of course I freely admit the initial draw was a chance to work with the nobility, especially when the noble in question was a pony with whom I was already acquainted in some manner. Nothing says you've made it big in this industry more than a personal request from the ruler of the whole country, but that isn't the reason I'm doing this."
"It isn't?"
"Of course not! Why the moment I set eyes on you I said to myself, Rarity darling, if you let this one get away without giving her the dress she deserves you'll never be able to look yourself in the eye again. You would make a herd of fashion models look drab if you stood anywhere near them! How could I live with myself if I didn't take the chance to wrap you up in one of my creations? And now I have the excuse! Isn't it marvelous?"
Her piece said, Rarity slipped from the couch and to resume her work. With her pencils poised, she looked over her shoulder at Sparkler.
"If you don't mind me asking, dear, what's your talent?"
"Writing. I'm a writer."
"No no dear, your talent. Your sundorcræft as those anachronistic rock farmer relatives of Pinkie Pie call it. Unless diamonds are some sort of euphemism for the written word, writing is your chosen occupation rather like design is mine."
"Oh. I thought– I thought dressmaking was your talent. You're so good at it."
"Thank you dear, but no, I design because I enjoy it. My talent is the ability to find big shiny beautiful jewels hiding under the dirt, which just happens to fit perfectly with the work I love to do. Speaking of which, idea!" The pencils began their work again, scratching at the page like a demented cat and moving faster than Sparkler could follow. "It took me a long time to realise that a precious jewel can be more than just a rock. But we're losing the point, how did you find yours?"
Sparkler pressed her hooves together and stared down at the floor lest she risk meeting Rarity's gaze. It was a question she'd never wanted to answer.
"Dunno," she mumbled eventually, still avoiding eye contact with Rarity.
"Excuse me?"
"I said I don't know! I never knew. My mark just appeared one day when I was a filly, but nopony knew what I'd done to get it."
"Oh. Oh my, darling, I'm so sorry, I never meant to–"
Sparkler waved a hoof, dismissing the apology before it could be finished. "Its fine, I don't think about it. As long as I've got mom and Dinky it doesn't matter."
"Perhaps," Rarity allowed. She laid her pencils down again and lifted up her work for a closer examination, not noticing when her tongue crept out of the side of her mouth. Sparkler had seen Twilight doing the same thing and wondered if it was some sort of shared tic. "Oh this will never do. Away with you!"
The paper fluttered over Rarity's shoulder and fell to the ground at Sparkler's hooves, where it curled over on itself like a message scroll. While Rarity set to work on a new design Sparkler nudged the paper with a hoof, unfurling the white sheet to reveal a design that wouldn't have looked out of place in a high-class fashion journal. And she was throwing this away?
"It's beautiful," the younger mare said quietly. "Why–"
"You are beautiful, that is merely adequate." The way Rarity spat the word made it seem like the worst possible insult she could think of, as if somehow adequacy was inferior to all other states. She snorted. "I'd rather die than see you wearing that mess!"
"But– wait, you think I'm beautiful?"
"Of course!" Rarity's grin was as wide as her face but she continued working all the same. "Darling, you'd give my own dear friend Fluttershy a run for her money and she's one of the most elegant and graceful mares I've ever had the pleasure to work with. Why you simply sparkle dear. Like–"
She turned again, work forgotten as she looked Sparkler up and down. The grin was gone too, replaced with a carefully appraising frown and Sparkler wondered if she'd done or said something wrong, though she couldn't work out how there was any wrong in complimenting another's work. Even if they did think it was terrible.
"Rarity–"
"Like a jewel," Rarity said, head tilting to one side as she stared at Sparkler. "No wonder you stand out. You probably got your mark for being a head above the other fillies. Darling, you were born to be worshipped!"
"Are you trying to tell me that my special talent is being looked at?"
"Is there anything wrong with that?" Rarity's pencils began to move again, moving in tightly regimented formation toward a clean sheet of paper.
"Seems a bit self-indulgent to me," Sparkler shot back. "What sort of talent is 'being pretty' meant to be?"
"What sort of talent is 'bubbling'?"
"Hey, you leave mom out of this!"
"Lady Amethyst, I am making a point now, so please do be quiet and listen." Rarity sat down opposite Sparkler. She took off her glasses, allowing herself a luxuriant sigh as she tossed her mane once or twice for show. "Now let me ask you something very personal. Do you know what Derpy's talent is?"
"Ditzy."
"Really? She told me– well that's not important. Do you know?"
Sparkler snorted and made to answer, only to realise that she'd never been told. And she'd never asked either. In fact the more she thought about it, the more she realised that she had absolutely no idea what her mother's talent could be. Breathing underwater?
"I guess not."
"It's a tricky one, I'll grant you that. At the time I was still worried about asking in case I appeared rude and it took me years to work it out." Rarity settled back on the couch and closed her eyes for a moment as she spoke. She smiled. "When I first met your mother she'd just crashed through my window and made a complete and utter mess of my shop. It was a rather harsh introduction and unfortunately it did not display either of us in a particularly pleasing light. Yet the next day, when I went to apologise for my terrible behaviour toward her she just brushed it off as if I'd done nothing wrong. Of course I couldn't leave it at that so I made her a really rather splendid set of flying goggles with a matching scarf to make up for it. She wanted to pay for them."
"That does sound like mom," Sparkler replied. Rarity pursed her lips and nodded.
"Quite so. And it made me believe that perhaps her talent was some ability to be extremely forgiving, which is quite an admirable trait in itself although it has nothing to do with bubbles as such. You see I still thought of special talent as only talent, even though my own talent had little directly to do with what I truly enjoyed and even less to do with the talents I employ for a living."
"I thought you designed these 'magnificent creations' for a living."
"Oh darling, do pay attention!" Rarity pressed a hoof to her forehead and huffed quietly. "What are they teaching in schools these days? My day-to-day work is catering to the horrendous whims of the idle rich and producing those wonderfully sweet yet generic pieces for the more mundane customer. Design of the masterpieces for which I am famous is my art, though it is admittedly very lucrative at times, and finding jewels is my talent. It's a three-way split, you see?"
"I guess so."
"Now." Rarity took a moment to compose herself again, smoothing her hooves across the couch as she took a deep, calming breath. "What I'd encountered was tangentially related to your mother's talent, but it wasn't the entirety of it. Every so often I'd find some part of her that seemed to be her talent but it never really fit until I stepped back one day and thought about the common theme. Bubbles!"
"Buh– wha?"
"She floats, darling! Every time some awful situation seems like it's going to pull her down she just floats right out of it like a cloud of bubbles. Take Dinky for example, any other mare might well have faced the prospect of raising a foal alone with dread, or at least a very healthy sense of trepidation. Why I can barely stand to have Sweetie Belle around the place for a few days." Rarity's eyes focussed somewhere behind Sparkler and her face seemed to age several years all at once. "The thought of having to raise her and those two monsters she calls 'friends' for my entire life–"
She shook her head and the horror seemed to fall from her like snow from a quivering tree branch. Rarity smiled once again. "I'm sorry dear, where was I?"
"Dinky?"
"Ah, of course! The little s-sweetie," Rarity replied. She seemed to blank out for another moment before continuing. "As I said, any other mare would have been daunted by the prospect, but your mother just floated serenely on and then went right on to adopt you into the bargain."
"But–"
"She floats, darling. Her talent allows her to rise above. It makes her strong." Rarity jumped from her seat and bounced – literally bounced – back to her work with a foal-like giggle. "So you see now?"
"Not really."
Thunder rolled through the darkening storm as Rarity resumed her design work once again. She barely slowed as she glanced at Sparkler, eyebrows raised and a slight downward curl to her lips.
"My point is that your mother's talent is not even remotely what it appears to be at first glance. And your talent is not being 'pretty', it's being noticed. Ponies pay attention to you. They're drawn to you like few others and that, my dear, is a rare gift. Your being beautiful is a bonus, you could be ugly as a lump of granite and they'd still hang on your every word." Pencils skittered and scratched at paper a final time and Rarity held her latest design up with a flourish and a rather conveniently timed flash of lightning. "Et voila!"
Sparkler moved to look at the page. It wasn't a dress. It was more of a declaration, a paean to the dressmaker's art. Somehow Rarity had taken the idea of beauty and condensed it down into about a dozen sharply defined lines that seemed to speak to Sparkler's soul, though what they spoke about she wasn't entirely sure. She carefully took the drawing from Rarity's magic and pulled it close to her face.
"I can't accept this."
"Oh nonsense! I'd happily give you this for free, though fortunately for my balance book the Crown is paying for all my expenses. No matter what you decide I can at least leave with the knowledge that you are wearing it because you, my dear, are the jewel that makes dress this complete."
Sparkler lifted the drawing for a closer look. She could see a definite likeness of herself in the rapidly sketched pony, right down to the shape and style of her mane. Somehow the dress it was wearing made the whole thing seem complete. She traced a hoof over the figure and marvelled at how perfect it was.
"Miss Rarity, what would you do if you were in my place?"
"Why I would accept immediately, of course!"
"But what about your job? Wouldn't you hate giving that up?"
"Giving up my work?" Rarity frowned and tapped her chin. She leaned toward Sparkler as if examining her for a blemish. "Is that what this is about?"
"I liked university," Sparkler said. She finally, reluctantly put the drawing down. "I wanted to be a writer."
"Oh my dear, whoever said you would have to give up university?"
"What?"
"Lady Amethyst, please think about this for a moment. You'd be the Duchess of Canterlot, quite possibly the most powerful pony in the entire country. You could do just about anything you wanted! Why the only pony who could realistically stop you attending university would be the Princess and I rather suspect you have some influence there, yes?"
"But nobody ever said–" Sparkler pressed a hoof to her face and let out an exasperated sigh. "I never asked."
"I thought as much."
"Mom probably thought I'd figure it out for myself. Oh I feel so dumb."
"I expect it was hope rather than anything nefarious," Rarity replied with a strange little smile. "She abhors anything even remotely underhoofed in my experience."
Rarity turned back to her work to resume sketching. Every now and then she would pull a sheaf of drawings from her bags to leaf through, or flick through one of the swatches floating around her head. Finally her frantic scribbling slowed to something a normal pony could follow and she leaned toward Sparkler with another smile. "Lady Amethyst, be a dear and bring your sister out would you?"
"Oh, Miss Rarity, about that, I'd prefer if you called me Sparkler."
"Why thank you Sparkler. I'd be honoured."
Sparkler smiled weakly as she trotted toward the bedroom she shared with Dinky. When she reached the door she paused and turned to look at Rarity again. The designer was staring back and forth between a selection of drawings, all designs fitted to a foal about Dink's age.
"Rarity?"
"Hmm?"
Sparkler took a step back toward the designer. "Would you be there? I-I mean at wherever I wear my dress. Would you like to come?"
"Of course dear, I would be delighted to attend! I always take every opportunity to view my creations in their final setting, though I so rarely get the chance these days. If, hypothetically speaking, you were to assent to your investiture then I might have to ask you for a small favour before I could attend." She took off her glasses and gave Sparkler a shy smile. "You see, it appears somepony forgot to extend me an invitation. Surely just an oversight, but you can see the problem this presents."
"Well, I suppose I could–" Sparkler frowned. When had she made that decision? She shook her head and quickly retreated into the bedroom before Rarity could say anything more.
The room was filled with light, though the windows were still darkened by the ever-present storm. When Sparkler look up she found a half-dozen tiny balls of werelight flitting around the ceiling like fireflies. Dinky was curled up on the bed with one of the books Twilight had left for her, oblivious to the lightshow she'd created overhead.
"Hey Dink." Sparkler trotted up to her sister and gently nuzzled her cheek. "Get your snout out of that book."
"Aww, but I gotta finish this for Twilight!"
"You can finish it after. Miss Rarity's here to measure you for a new dress."
Dinky squeaked her surprise and leaped to her hooves, her studies forgotten in a heartbeat. "Is it like the one she made for me last year? That was awesome!"
"Probably."
With another squeak Dinky hopped from the bed and trotted out of the room with her nose held high in the air, leaving Sparkler to trail in her wake. The little unicorn was already fussing around Rarity by the time Sparkler managed to catch up. The poor seamstress seemed to have belatedly remembered what she was in for as she gave Sparkler a pleading look.
"Dinky, statue!"
"Oh!" The little filly locked her legs and theatrically clamped her mouth shut, cheeks bulging as she held her breath. She looked up at her elder sister with wide eyes. "Mmf mf?"
Sparkler put on the most serious face she could muster. "Perfect."
"Oh thank you dear, I really don't know what I would have done. Now little miss, it seems you're going to need at least two outfits." Rarity's measuring tapes snapped into a web that had snared Dinky in moments. The little filly's eyes widened and she let out a nervous squeak as the tapes pulled tight. "One for your presentation to the court, and one for your sister's... event. Whatever that may be."
"Oh. Yeah. I guess I should get you those tickets or whatever they're called." Sparkler eyed Rarity, tried to discern what the designer was thinking behind her professional façade. As she worked on Dinky, Rarity's eyes returned Sparkler's gaze. There was just the hint of a smile at the corners of her eyes.
"Is this gonna be for your vesty chair thing?"
"I–" Sparkler took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."
"Cool!"
"Yeah." Sparkler waited for her sister to be distracted by Rarity's ministrations before slowly walking to the window. The same window Twilight had almost thrown her out of a few days earlier, or at least that's how it had felt at the time. With the way the rain pelted the glass it seemed as if she should feel some sort of melancholy sadness, but if Sparkler felt anything it was peace. The decision was made, for better or worse, and all that was left to her was to claim the crown.
She could see almost the whole of Canterlot from here. Wrapping her mind around the thought that she technically owned the entire thing was proving to be quite a challenge. That she could go from the daughter of a humble mail mare to– but that was beginning to sound cliché and she would be damned if she'd call herself a writer and tolerate anything like that in her own thoughts.
Sparkler found herself staring at the narrow spire of Canterlot University's main campus. Apparently she owned that too. She owned everything she could see. Anything she wanted was suddenly hers for the taking, if only she had the will. Perhaps she could get used to it after all.
The rain fell all day and night and continued to fall the next. And the day after it fell some more.
Free of the control of its pegasus drivers the storm had intensified, its great bulk piling up against the side of Canter Peak as it slowly wound its way along the fertile valleys below Canterlot. From a distance it seemed as if the capital had disappeared into the heart of a bright new range of mountains. White cloud rose and fell with a gentle grace that belied the treacherous air currents roiling within them, so powerful that even if the weather teams had remained they would no longer be able to bring the storm under control.
Beneath the cloud it was as if night had returned again. The storm raged and thundered, flinging lightning around with abandon as it poured months worth of rain onto the streets of Canterlot, transforming the entire city into a network of canals. Few dared venture outdoors except for the most pressing or foolhardy of reasons. Even the normally efficient city postal service faltered despite having weathered the Long Night without interruption to their schedule, its hardy employees refusing to risk drowning on the city streets in what should have been the middle of summer.
The city slumbered beneath the storm and waited patiently for the rain to cease, content to hide.
High above, the palace towered like a beacon, every visible window burning bright and clear against the storm. Its upper reaches were lost amongst those same wracked clouds, but the glow of their lights was a constant nimbus that now shone day and night. In those dark days when the sun had seemed lost to the world the palace had become a beacon of stability. As long as the palace lights burned, so the story went, Equestria would survive.
Atop it all, on a balcony overlooking a city now lost beneath the same glowing mist, one light burned bright as the sun as Equestria's young new ruler stood in the blinding rain. Not a single drop touched her light grey coat. Her golden mane drifted about her head, mirroring the cloud that swirled around her palatial home, and her eyes shone with the light of life itself. She took a deep breath, held it and spread her wings.
Far away above the storm, the sun rose to begin the day anew.
Derpy lowered her wings and let her breath flow free. Her mane fell limp to her sides, returning from its golden, sphere-speckled aura to a plain flaxen blonde. With her power hidden her coat was soaked almost straight away; her mane soon slicked against her body as the rain drove it flat on her scalp. She stood then, with her eyes still closed and her head held high, letting the rain batter her flesh, uncaring.
After some time, though she was not sure how long, she noticed another presence. She opened her eyes to a gentle light glowing to her left and found another pony, another alicorn standing beside her. The other watched her intently through lavender eyes as Derpy gave a small but courteous bow.
The first time they had met it had taken the form of the departed Celestia, sparking no end of rumour and speculation in the streets below. Subsequent mornings it had appeared in a similar guise, recognisably Celestia's form, but differing in odd little details. Today the differences were more profound. Her mane flowed a bright, solid green and her face bore the proud nobility of a warrior rather than the gentle motherly image of before. She was smaller too, harder, a pony accustomed to privation and lack and conflict, so unlike the Celestia who had watched over a millennium of peace.
The Sun spoke.
"You shelter not from the elements. Why?"
Derpy was never sure how to respond to that sort of question.
Her relationship with the Sun was unusual. First and foremost there was the fact that she could have a relationship with the Sun at all. The Sun was wise beyond any pony she had encountered before, wiser than her old gramma, who always knew when Derpy had been at the cookie jar. Wiser even than Twilight Sparkle, who Derpy knew to be a very smart mare indeed. Yet despite all the apparent wisdom it kept asking her the strangest of questions and there were moments when it seemed like it really didn't understand anything at all.
Wisdom was not Derpy's own strength. She knew she wasn't the smartest of ponies, recent experiences with Twilight aside. In the end all she could do was be honest. And so she was.
"I like the rain."
If the Sun had any sort of reaction to her answer it wasn't showing it. The face it wore looked merely thoughtful as it slowly circled Derpy, never taking its eyes from her face. "You enjoy that which your predecessor professed to be 'a pain in the flank'."
"I was a delivery mare for years. Neither snow nor rain or any of that stuff." Derpy scuffed her hoof on the stone tile of the balcony as she thought back just a scant few weeks to her past. "I learned to enjoy it. I could either enjoy it or go mad and quit my job. I couldn't afford to quit so I didn't really have a choice."
"The choice is now available, yet you continue to choose the discomfort." The Sun paused to look up at the sky, unheeding of the same discomfort. At first Derpy had thought the rain was falling through the strange creature's body but she could see that it didn't now – it was solid as a real pony. Yet when the rain touched its skin it disappeared entirely, leaving the avatar dry and untouched.
It turned to look at her again, its face entirely neutral. "Why?"
"Because it's who I am."
Derpy shook her wings, sending a cloud of spray up to be lost in the overwhelming flow of the storm. For a brief moment she was back on her rounds, grounded and soaked, skulking between houses that were all but invisible in the pouring rain and loving every moment of it. Then, as now, true solitude had been a rare thing; she was always meeting ponies on her round or looking after Dinky and Sparkler. A rainy day was the only time she got to truly be alone on her own terms for any length of time.
"Because I can be mother to my daughters and a friend to Twilight and all that other stuff, but if I'm really gonna live for thousands of years then that'll be just a tiny part of my life. One day all I'll have left is you and this rain. If I stop enjoying this, who would I be?"
The Sun didn't answer. When Derpy looked the avatar it had inhabited was gone, lost to the clattering rain, which meant she had a visitor. This too had become a habit. Except for their initial meeting the Sun spoke to Derpy alone, refusing to even appear if any other pony was present. The idea that the spirit of the sun itself could be nervous around other ponies was hard to accept, yet it was the only explanation Derpy could come up with for its reluctant nature.
The Princess turned her back on the empty spot and found Twilight Sparkle a short distance beyond the balcony doors, sheltering from the rain beneath the glowing light of a magical shield. Something of a family specialty, she'd said once. Derpy didn't have any reason to doubt the claim.
"I guess I missed her again?"
Derpy nodded. "I'm sorry, Twilight."
The archmage smiled and shook her head. "It's okay. She probably knows I'd have questions to ask that she's likely too busy to answer, what with the whole light and life of the world thing."
Twilight extended her shield to cover Derpy as she trotted back toward the doors. Much as she enjoyed the rain the Princess didn't try and stop the kind gesture; she didn't want to hurt Twilight's feelings. And she had to admit that it was possible to have too much of a good thing.
"Why do we even call her a she anyway? It's not like the sun has a gender." The door closed behind them, dulling the steady roar of rain and wind to a dull rumble, punctuated by the occasional slap of a squall against the glass. "It's a giant flaming ball of gas."
"I felt the same when I was pregnant with Dinky."
The look that got from Twilight was worth every single moment Derpy would have to spend in her splendid isolation. Taking advantage of the silence while her friend tried to gather her thoughts, Derpy sauntered over to a heap of cushions near the fire and lay down. Once she had settled herself into the plush comfort of the pile, she spread her wings and sighed as the fire's heat soaked into them.
Over the crackling flames she could hear Twilight pottering about the study, mumbling under her breath as she organised the day. Quite when the archmage had decided to take on the role of royal secretary was a little hazy, but she did a pretty good job. It was just that it wasn't her job to be good at.
"Twilight."
The rustling of parchment abruptly ceased, leaving just the crackling fire and the sound of Derpy's breathing. The Princess opened her eyes and rolled her head toward the soundless space. Behind a pile of official documents Twilight sat very still, her hooves pressed against the surface of the desk.
She took a breath and closed her eyes. "Highness?"
Derpy lowered her wings, giving them a light flutter to release a little of the moisture still lurking in their depths. She couldn't remember the last time she'd given them more than a cursory preening and it was starting to show, with several of her feathers starting to seriously fray and split. The Princess began absently running her snout through the primaries on her left wing as she spoke.
"You know you don't need to do all that stuff." Her muzzle snagged at a feather that came loose with a barely audible crack. Derpy let it fall to the ground and looked toward Twilight.
"Certainly, your highness."
The voice was one Derpy had quickly come to recognise as Twilight's 'I don't want to talk about it' voice; it was uncannily like Dinky's when she was in a recalcitrant mood, which said a lot about one of them, though she wasn't quite sure which yet. Derpy could have argued the point, maybe told Twilight she was being silly by hiding, but that wouldn't have helped matters. Instead she held out her wing and continued running her muzzle through its feathers.
A few more strokes and another feather slipped free, reliving an itch that had plagued her for days. She let out a quiet sigh and pulled the feather away to join its compatriots on the floor before turning a critical eye on her wings once again, shaking her head at the dismal state they were in.
"You'd think I wouldn't have to do this any more either," she muttered, stretching one wing forward so her foreleg could reach it. With great care she flexed her hoof and ran it leading edge of her wing, smooth out the feathers with a light sheen of oil. It wasn't perfect but it would have to do for now. "And I thought I told you not to call me that."
Despite the cheer in Derpy's voice, Twilight remained sullenly silent, refusing to look up from her neatly stacked papers. Derpy sighed and folded her wings carefully against her back before shuffling around to a more comfortable position.
"Leave that, Twilight. Come here." She patted a cushion on the floor by her side and smiled. Twilight didn't move. "You're going to leave that handsome secretary you got for me with nothing to do."
The gentle barb seemed to work. Twilight shuddered and shook her head, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. Taking a deep breath she pushed herself away from the desk and plodded to Derpy's side. There was a slight frown on her face, one eyebrow lowered just slightly below the other over narrowed eyes that didn't seem focused on anything.
As she settled down on the cushion Twilight absent-mindedly leaned over to lay her head against Derpy's side, only to pause mere inches from her shoulder with a confused grimace.
"Sorry," she muttered, pulling herself away again. "Guess I wasn't thinking."
"It's okay," Derpy replied, a timid smile working onto her face. Her ears had laid flat at the sight of her friend feeling so comfortable in her presence, even if it was just for a brief moment; Derpy wasn't sure quite how she should feel about it.
"I used to spend a lot of time like this with the prin-- with Celestia, when I was still very small and learning more basic magical skills. She even let me help her preening once or twice. I didn't realise what that meant until a lot later."
"Dinky likes to help me with mine too. It's different with foals," Derpy replied quietly. She nuzzled at the top of Twilight's head without thought, closing her eyes as she drew in the familiar scent of Twilight's mane.
Both mares caught their breath at the same time, the same chilly feeling running down their spines despite the heat of the fire. Carefully, avoiding any sudden movement, they shuffled away from one another, their stances becoming just that little bit more formal and remote as they settled again. The perfect image of professional interaction.
It was exactly the thing Derpy had wanted to talk about, but now she was as guarded as Twilight, unable to even think about it without her mind bringing up unwanted images. Her wings fluttered at her sides; for something to do she flared one out and plunged her mouth into it, searching for another loose feather, for a snag or a ripple or anything that might occupy her mind.
Slowly the moment passed, the icy barrier between them melting away as each mind sought to reorient itself. To her side Twilight took a deep breath in through her nose then let it flow slowly from her mouth.
"I'm sorry."
The words had come unbidden. Twilight barely reacted, the flick of her ears the only real sign that she had even heard. She stretched out her forelegs and took another deep breath then hauled herself to her hooves.
"Your rehearsal will be in a few hours," Twilight said, her voice remaining carefully neutral. "There's not much to do until then. I could have Dinky and Sparkler come up to spend some time with you, if you like."
While you hide away in your own little tower, Derpy thought sadly. "That would be nice. I've barely had any time with them."
"I know." Her eyes were filled with so much more she wanted to say, so much that Derpy already knew. So much they both already knew.
Twilight turned away then, clearing her throat to break the silence as she stalked back to the desk. Papers flung themselves into the air at her command, rearranging themselves into an order more to her liking. She stared at the shuffling reams without paying any real attention.
"I had a thought, since we're on the subject of your coronation."
Derpy nodded slightly. "I think I can guess. You want to move it to Ponyville."
"The weather will be better," Twilight replied quietly. She let the papers fall to the desk in neat stacks and closed her eyes for a moment. "It'd be nice to see all the girls again. And on a more official level it would establish a nice precedent."
"I don't understand."
With deliberate care, Twilight circled the room and made her way to the window. She stared up at the endless grey wall that surrounded their tower. "You represent something completely new. It's tempting to make statements about the collapse of the old order and the rise of new paradigms, but I think more than anything you represent the Equestria that Canterlot rarely interacts with. You're everything they're not."
She closed her eyes and smiled. "In a way you're everything Celestia wasn't."
"Twilight..."
"It is what is," Twilight said quietly. She turned from the window and walked toward the door with her eyes still closed. "It seems fitting. I think... I think Celestia would have liked to see you crowned somewhere divorced from the old ways."
At the door Twilight paused, her hoof half-way to the handle. She lifted her head and looked over her shoulder at Derpy with an odd half-smile.
"Of course it's up to you," she said quietly.
"I think I'd like it," Derpy replied. Her voice had stayed low; it seemed almost blasphemous to raise it in the presence of her predecessor's name.
Twilight's smile only grew broader. Without a word she opened the door and stepped out, leaving Derpy alone with her fire. The Princess knew her daughters would arrive soon – she could feel the bond between them and herself so powerfully now, one of the many advantages of her new form. Until then she was alone. Or almost alone.
For a moment Derpy saw another pony standing by the windows, staring at the sky with a peculiar smile on her face. Yet before she could even think to speak the avatar was gone, lost to the bright glow of lanterns in the rain-soaked cloud that swirled and shifted around her towering home.
Her hooves itched, memories of her time as a reserve weather teamster forcing their way to her conscious mind at the sight of so much cloud. Closing her eyes, Derpy trotted toward the great doors that led out to the world. She stepped out into the rain and moved to the balcony rail, lifting her wings to soak in the eternally shifting currents of the storm.
High above, the sun continued its lonesome path, undisturbed by any intruder.
Standing at the very highest point of Canterlot, below the tower of the royal apartments, the Great Hall of the throne room and the Celestial court bore the brunt of the storm that wreathed the city. Though the weather had eased as the sun had climbed, still the rain fell in an endless clatter against the stained glass windows depicting key moments in Equestria's history, many of which had been installed in just the last few years. A fact of which Twilight Sparkle had once been inordinately proud.
That pride was tempered now as she looked upon those same windows, tracing the path that had become obvious in hindsight. Each glass was a step to a goal of which she had known nothing. Another page turned on a story that would never finish, about a destiny she knew she could no longer reach. Her mind slid back to the tear-stained letter that still sat on the desk in her study, untouched since the day she had last read it.
You were to have been my heir...
A journal lay next to it, one of the first Twilight had found in the slow process of gathering and sorting Celestia's effects. A journal that bore her name, that had been filled with observations touching and intimate, remote and scientific, charting every moment of her life, measuring, bounding, tracking. Every dream and wish and desire Celestia held for her had been carefully recorded in her neat script between its pages.
Twilight's eyes fell to the empty throne atop the dais, surrounded by the flags of state and the collected regalia of centuries of rule. Already much was changing, as the symbols of the ended Diarchy were stripped away and replaced with a single, featureless orb, a device already quietly nicknamed the New Sun by some. A new age was dawning: not in the fanfare of trumpets or the adulation of ranked crowds cheering their ruler, but quietly, beneath the decorator's brush and the janitor's broom. Only the throne itself still bore the eternal sun of Celestia's reign, so recently interposed with Luna's crescent moon that it was still possible to smell the paint.
Without thought Twilight walked up to the dais, climbing the shallow steps to the foot of the throne, the robes of her office curling and swaying around her legs like a shroud. Once, when she had been still very young, she had found her way into the throne room and sat on that very seat just to see how it felt. She'd even 'borrowed' a set of Celestia's shoes, though they had been enormously oversized on her still-growing hooves.
She could picture herself there now, wrapped in purloined splendour, whilst one of the maids and a guard pretended she was Celestia herself as they marched back and forth at Twilight's command, much to the young filly's delight.
Of course Celestia's journal had recorded every moment of it, the entry filled with a freely declared delight at Twilight's precocious curiosity. There had been other such moments, other times when Celestia's love had shone through, unspoken but recorded. The affections of her mentor had always been clear, but the sheer depth of Celestia's feelings had come as a surprise to Twilight. The admiration, the pride in her achievements, the joy at her growth.
There had been other journals. Other students, other friends and loved ones. Records of lives lived and loved and lost to time. Memories, remembrances, letters never sent, feelings unspoken. Each ending the same way. Twilight had easily perceived the subtle mottling in the ink of the more recent journals as Celestia had recorded those final entries.
"She takes students for their entire lives."
The thought came unbidden, the memory of a conversation that had taken place only a few years prior; it felt like a lifetime ago.
"Yes," Luna had said, with her eyes fixed on the night sky. She had smiled, Twilight remembered, but it had been a sad smile, filled with longing as the Princess stared at her stars.
"Why? If she's so scared of losing us?"
"No pony is meant to be alone. Not even the sun is truly alone. She allows herself no true love for any but you, Twilight Sparkle. You are her catharsis."
As the conversation had wound on, Twilight's mind had been trapped in mundane worries and concerns of the sort brought about by the simple issues of friendship, but with the perspective granted by time she could see the pain in Luna's eyes, the fear that she might be driving Twilight away from her mentor with the revelations of that night. Had she known? Had she understood the plans Celestia had set in motion?
It felt as if the crest had filled her entire vision, floating over her and spanning the entire sky like the sun from the dream she had shared with Dinky.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice was barely a whisper. Twilight lowered her gaze from the crest and closed her eyes. She wondered why she spoke. Even if Celestia could hear her, what would she have said?
At the sound of hooves stepping quietly up the steps Twilight turned, shaking her head. She opened her eyes to find a young stallion and mare watching her. Their gazes subtly shifted toward the crest on the back of the throne; she could see another of the new insignia resting in a cradle on the stallion's back. With a curt nod Twilight stepped back to grant the pair access to the throne and then turned away.
Then she paused. Her gaze took in the room, the weight of its history, the bustle of ponies as they prepared the space for the new incumbent. She looked back at the crest affixed to the throne and then at the two workers, who watched her carefully.
Twilight indicated the crest with a nod. "Bring that to my chambers when you're finished. See that it isn't damaged."
"Ma'am," the mare replied with a bow of her head. She nudged the stallion; he mirrored the gesture a moment later and they set to work, while Twilight watched from a short distance. In what seemed like moments the crest had been loosened and pulled free. Twilight couldn't help but wince as it was lowered to the floor, no matter how much care they two might take. Removed from its place behind the throne, the device seemed curiously flat and lifeless. Empty. As if it were—
She didn't care finish the thought. Before long the two workers had fixed the new crest in place above the throne and backed away to admire their work. Twilight moved closer to examine the crest. It was a sunstone, probably the largest she had ever seen, polished to spherical perfection. Even in the storm's gloaming it seemed to glow with an inner fire as it gathered the light of the room to its depths.
Her eyes strayed to the throne itself. For a moment she hesitated, one hoof resting on the lip of the low seat, remembering the feel of it. The plain fabric upholstery had been replaced since she had last seated herself there. Again her gaze was drawn to the new crest, and the fire that still burned within it.
With a smile she turned and nodded to the pair, bidding them leave. They hesitated a moment. Then, with a shared shrug, they lifted the old crest between them and returned to the door. The smile fell from Twilight's face as she watched them depart with final remnant of her old life.
She turned and seated herself on the throne.
The doors of the throne room opened wide mere moments later, admitting a small knot of ponies, all wrapped in the finery of their station. Twilight forced a welcoming expression to her face as they approached, her eyes lingering for a moment on Sure Stride as he marched at their head, resplendent in his new Captain's dress uniform. As he drew close, Twilight could see a little discomfort in the way he carried himself. The newly minted Captain smirked as he noticed her attention, and rolled his eyes with all the subtlety of a falling boulder.
Several of those approaching faltered as they saw who occupied the throne, particularly the First Minister, Alabast Star. He glared at her in open shock and leaned across the whisper something to the pony accompanying him, before turning his glare on another, elderly stallion to his left. The elder unicorn ignored Alabast's gaze as he adjusted his bonnet.
The group drew to a halt at the foot of the dais and the same elder unicorn stepped forward, doffing his cap as he bowed to the throne. "Your excellency Regent Sparkle, it is an honour to see you this morning."
"And you, Lord Steward Brightstone," Twilight replied as the unicorn restored his cap. To the Lord Steward's side, Alabast grit his teeth and stepped forward. "And good morning to you as well, sir Alabast. I hope you found Parliament in good order."
"Well enough, my lady," he allowed, though his jaw was still tense as he spoke. He turned slightly to take in Brightstone. "On that topic I feel it behooves to speak on their behalf to ask whether Parliament was to be informed of this development."
Brightstone's cheeks puffed out behind a snort. "The Regency? All quite temporary, I assure you, and entirely above board," he huffed, turning awkwardly to face Alabast. He held his right leg stiffly as he moved, placing his weight as far forward as he was able. Twilight found herself wondering if that were the reason he wore trousers. "The Court felt it expedient to appoint a Regent until her Highness the Princess is formally crowned. Archmage Sparkle had already demonstrated her leadership skills quite handily during the recent unpleasantness, so naturally we felt she was the best suited to take the role. Although it's unlikely her Highness would have accepted anyone else."
"And yet..." Alabast's brow knit together and he looked across at Sure Stride, as if seeking support. "It does seem rather unilateral."
"If Parliament had been available for consultation..." Brightstone cleared his throat again, letting the unfinished thought linger for a moment. "Besides, you know as well as any that such a request would be tied up in committees for months."
Twilight rolled her ears back and tuned out the bickering. It was a little fact of her life she had forgotten, after just a few days. The emergency – a word that did little justice to what had nearly been the end of the world – had resulted in a short period when the ponies around her had responded to requests and orders with prompt obedience rather than all this pointless debate and argument. They had all been united in the single goal of survival. Not any more. The return of the strict protocols of palace life were starting to grate on her. A week free of the ceremonial fluff that had become so much of Twilight's life had spoiled her completely, revealing a freedom and immediacy of action that had become entirely alien – and once had been entirely familiar, in a time when she had nothing more than her wits, her books and her friends to rely upon.
As the pair continued to mutter argument, Twilight found her eyes sliding across the rest of the group. There were one or two nobles she vaguely recognised as allies of the crown – Celestia's crown, at least – and several of their advisors. Alabast had brought Sir Huphrey with him, perhaps in his role as Cabinet Secretary, or perhaps merely as moral support.
The debate showed no sign of ending, friendly as it seemed. She caught Sir Huphrey's eye; he cocked an eyebrow at her, then coughed into his hoof and looked away.
"All I am saying is that there is simply no precedent for the appointment of a Regent without the express approval of parliament!" Alabast glanced at Twilight and frowned. "I am fully aware of the more personable traits of her Ladyship—"
"Her Excellency," Brightstone grumbled.
"The legitimacy of such title is in fact the matter of debate, sir!"
Grunting as he fought against his stiff leg, Brighstone wheeled awkwardly on Alabast and jabbed him square in the chest. "Damn you sir, and damn your debates! This isn't parliament, this is the Royal Court, sir, and I refuse to see it sullied by such indecorous behaviour! Rein your tongue, sir!"
"I see you would use the same excuse to toss away centuries of democratic representation as well, sir!"
"Gentlecolts, please." Twilight held out her hoof to the group. "Interesting as this argument has been, I feel it behooves us to pay attention to the matter at hand."
"Should have listened to the Toris," some anonymous member of the group muttered. Alabast heaved back and grit his teeth, but managed to retain at least some control over himself. He bowed his head a moment later.
"Of course," he sighed. "Forgive me if I appear belligerent, Archmage Sparkle. It has been a stressful time for all of us."
"Regent." Brightstone looked away and coughed, ignoring Alabast's pointed glare.
"We are, of course, here to discuss the issue of the succession," Alabast continued, returning his full attention to to Twilight's face. Or almost. Occasionally his eyes would flicker to the orb at the head of the throne. With a flourish of his hoof, Alabast began indicating the ponies to his side. "Might I present Baroness Saved of Long Stroll, representing the Independent Parliamentary Oversight Committee. Peach Melba, Tori shadow Secretary of State for Home Affairs and chair of the Parliamentary Select Committee for Appropriate Appropriations, and Sir Huphrey you of course already know..."
Twilight nodded to each of the ponies as they stepped forward with a slight bow. The introductions continued for a while, but Twilight found herself forgetting their names almost immediately, which was perhaps just as well, as each seemed inclined to do little but stand and be seen by her. She found herself watching Baroness Saved's bright blue mane, fascinated by the way it bobbed when she stood back up again, and then the way it framed what was a very familiar face. A smile reached the Baroness's face when she realised how intently Twilight was watching her. She bowed her head again once the introductions had finished.
"If I may, Regent Sparkle, if my face appears familiar to you, it's likely because you went to school with my sister, Moondancer."
"Moondancer? She never told me she had a sister..." Twilight frowned and tapped her hoof on the throne. "Of course I didn't really give her much of a chance. It's good to meet you, Baroness Saved."
The Baroness bowed again, making way for Peach Melba, who with her fuzzy yellow-orange coat and creamy white mane lived up to her name quite remarkably. She bowed her head to Twilight, before retrieving a pair of spectacles from her short pocket and placing them delicately on her snout, their bright blue rims only emphasising the grizzling grey that streaked either side of her muzzle. A flash of her horn summoned a sheet of paper, which she perused quickly before peering over her glasses at Twilight.
"I assume, Archmage, you are already aware of the—" Melba's ears twitched at a grumpy cough from Brightstone. She rolled her eyes; Twilight couldn't help but giggle at the sight. "Forgive me, your Excellency. You are already aware of a certain amount of discomfort over your choice for the location of our esteemed new ruler's coronation, I believe?"
"We thought it would be a good way to demonstrate how different things will be." Twilight shared a glance with Sure Stride as she spoke. "It's close to Canterlot, but still far enough to be recognisably not Canterlot."
"But why Ponyville? Surely other venues would have been more appropriate?" Again Peach Melba consulted her paper and a little pout developed on her lips as she reached the bottom. "Trottingham, for instance. Or Manehattan. Both cities are sufficiently of the people to allow a show of solidarity with the common pony, without compromising the provision of suitable amenities for what will be a significant influx of guests. Were there other considerations in play when you made the decision, ma'am?"
Before Twilight could reply, the Baroness stepped forward and put herself almost between the pair, raising one hoof a little. "If it please? Miss Melba, I cannot feel that it reflects well on our argument to hint at accusations of personal bias over this issue. It is entirely a matter of logistics."
With a sweep of her well-tended hoof that managed to gently propel Peach Melba aside, Baroness Saved brought herself before the throne and smiled at Twilight once again. "And, if I might be so bold, our intent first and foremost was to seek reassurance that such concerns were being address. Nothing more, and nothing less. Is that not correct, Alabast?"
"What? Oh." Alabast looked away from his silent glaring match with Brightstone and shuffled at his dress robes. "Of course. Reassurance. Logistics. Sir Huphrey?"
"Indeed, Chancellor, the logistical concerns are one of an array of issues over which the cabinet and the opposition both have raised some need for consideration. Parliament itself has no objection to allowing this event to proceed inter-alia whilst performing a thorough oversight of the broad scope of concerns related to the greater whole that this novel experience represents, and you may be assured that an appropriate response shall be provided to you to present to their Highnesses—excuse me, to her Excellency and her Highness – with regards to the absolute official position of the government on the desirability of such actions as might be taken to rectify any potential conflicts of interest recumbent upon the matter, in due course and the fullness of time, with an eye to generating a fulfilling and equitable relationship between the crown and the government, taking into consideration all aspects of every possible avenue of investigation into whatever matters might arise as a result—"
"Yes, yes sir Huphrey, I get it, you want another dratted Select Committee. Give it to, oh, that new chap in Provincial Affairs, let him deal with it." Alabast frowned again as he turned his attention to Twilight. His hoof came to rest on his mouth for a moment as he watched her warily – a distinct change from his usual view of her – before it dropped to the ground with a thud. "Well, it would appear that's largely settled."
"B-but the nature of—"
"Oh be quiet, Melba," Alabast cut in. "Your lot are always on about the down to earth and true-blooded character of the provinces, why not go experience it for yourself? Do you good to get your hooves deep on the muck for a change."
To the murmur of general assent from the nameless crowd at their backs, Peach Melba glared at Alabast for a moment before pointedly folding her papers and stepping back to the group.
"If that's all, then?" Twilight watched the crowd, most of whom appeared to be little more than hangers-on. Visible bulk for the spectacle of the thing, there to be seen in Court rather than actually do anything in it. She glanced at Sure Stride again; the guard Captain nodded and signalled to the hoofcolts stationed by the main door of the throne room, who heaved at the broad, gilded doors as the assembled ponies returned toward them.
Except, that was, for Baroness Saved, who hovered uncertainly by the foot of the dais as the others departed. She glanced at the doors, then at Twilight, and beckoned at her to descend. After a moment's hesitation, Twilight slid from the throne and stepped down to face the Baroness.
"Forgive me, your Excellency—" she began, but Twilight held up a hoof to silence her.
"I prefer Twilight. Or Archmage if you insist on a title. I'm more used to that one."
"Of course... Archmage Sparkle. Twilight," Saved amended at the sight of Twilight's almost hidden frown. She glanced up at Sure Stride, whose impassive gaze was fixed on some distant point. If Twilight didn't know better it would be easy to think he's all but fallen asleep. "It is a rather sensitive issue."
"Sure Stride is as trustworthy as they come," Twilight replied.
"I am certain the Captain's input would be invaluable. Nevertheless..." Baroness Saved shuffled a little closer to Twilight, turning her face away from the Captain to speak again. "I wouldn't want to discuss this in open court."
Intrigue. Twilight had managed to avoid most of it, even despite her rising power, but there had been the odd moment when some noble or other had approached her seeking favour with the Princess, and offering favour of their own. She'd ignored them entirely, as she was sure Celestia would have done. Nevertheless, the name of it was... appropriate. She nodded, slowly, the way she had seen ministers of state do when they were trying to look thoughtful.
"Captain, I'm taking an early lunch. You may return to your duties."
Sure Stride bowed and trotted from the dais without a second glance. He really did look quite dashing in his uniform, Twilight mused, before quickly stomping the errant thought away.
"What I wouldn't give for a few hours alone with that one," the Baroness murmured, as if completing Twilight's thoughts. She grinned at Twilight as they turned to cross the throne room in the opposite direction.
"I think his wife might complain."
"A mare can dream, can't she? Oh, by the way." The Baroness paused as they reached an arched hallway at the rear of the great hall. "If we're avoiding titles, I would be grateful if you called me Penny. Celestia only elevated our family a generation ago and I've never really been able to get used to the whole thing. Only inherited it the year before last."
"Oh. I think Moondancer wrote to me about that. I'm sorry."
The Baroness bowed her head a little as they continued along the corridor, hooves clumping and muffled on the well-worn carpet. Twilight found herself mentally counting off the doors as they moved toward the small apartment she maintained here. Strange to think she still hadn't seen what was behind most of them – offices, most likely, for the myriad civil servants and functionaries who apparently kept the government from collapsing into chaos by sheer weight of their numbers.
As they reached the door to her own private space, Twilight realised that the Baroness hadn't spoken for some time. She pushed open the door and ushered the Baroness inside, barely paying heed to the stack of letters that had somehow appeared on her desk by the far windows in the time she had been away. She glanced at an empty plant pot in the corner, and wondered if she should make the effort to fill it again.
Despite the clatter of rain on the slender windows at the far end of the room, Twilight's voice sounded unnaturally loud when she spoke. "You said this was a sensitive issue."
Baroness Saved shook herself from her contemplations; she looked about the room, taking in the wood panelling and a portrait of Celestia over the fire, and for a moment her gaze held on the stricken crest of the Diarchy propped up in a far corner. Turning from the sight, she frowned at Twilight, but nodded. "There are matters the discussion of which I would rather some ponies be unaware."
Twilight settled herself on a couch opposite the fireplace and motioned for the Baroness to join her. "Go on."
"First and foremost, the means by which their Highnesses were so tragically taken from us remains a mystery. The fact of that mystery, the fact that we cannot plan for it, nor counter it, raises a threat to the stability of our system of government." Baroness Saved rose from her seat and paced toward the empty fireplace, still crusted black with soot and filled with the ash of the prior week's winter. "Given how confused things have been recently, you can probably understand that some influential ponies are a little nervous at the possibility."
"Nervous? They were a panicking herd of mindless animals!"
"Quite," said the Baroness. She turned from the fireplace, her bright red eyes falling on Twilight for some time before she spoke again. "You haven't discovered a reason for these events, I take it?"
Twilight shook her head and sighed. "I've been looking through Celestia's effects, but so far I haven't found any indication she expected this, let alone that she knew what it was. As for the scope, she and Luna both were the ancestors to several of Canterlot's noble families in the distant past, which might help explain some of the disappearances. Others... without a mechanism we have no idea."
For a moment it seemed as if the Baroness was going to add more to the point, but instead she pursed her lips and nodded slowly. "Then we are faced with the possibility that our sovereign and a random assortment of our political elite may simply disappear one day, and our only hope of any continuity is that the Princess might have a chance to invest her succession upon a capable pony before she goes. You can imagine this thought does not sit well with some. There have already been demands for a contingency should it happen again, possibly some reconsideration of our constitutional arrangements. Which brings us to the second issue."
Taking a deep breath, Baroness Saved stepped away from the fireplace and meandered back toward her seat. She paused over it, frowning, and shook her head.
"Might I ask a personal question, Archmage Sparkle?" She looked toward Twilight, and after a moment's thought Twilight gave her a curt nod. Baroness Saved smiled as she carefully resumed her seat. "Do you trust the competence of her Highness?"
Twilight opened her mouth, but the affirmative answer she wanted to give caught in her throat, and for a moment felt as if it might choke her. With a grimace she swallowed, closed her mouth and nodded, but the hesitation had apparently given Baroness Saved what she wanted to hear. Though nothing in her demeanour had obviously changed, nevertheless the Baroness seemed to wilt a little; her leg slid from the chair and she began to tap her forehooves together. Lightly, barely making a sound, but loud enough that Twilight could just perceive it.
"I trust her," Twilight affirmed. She leaned forward. "Celestia wouldn't have chosen her if she didn't believe she could fulfil her duties."
"Perhaps," Baroness Saved replied. "But I recall from conversations with the First Minister that she was chosen essentially by chance, when Celestia's preferred successor could not be found."
"I've heard it better described as fate." Twilight leaned back and narrowed her eyes. "And if you're aware of that much, then you're aware that I was Celestia's chosen successor and that I failed in my duty to her when I was most needed. I do not intend to repeat that mistake, Baroness Saved, nor do I believe my personal feelings toward her Highness have clouded my judgement in any way. Celestia placed her entire trust in Princess De Raptura. I don't believe any of us are in a position to question that trust."
"Of course. Forgive my presumption, Archmage Sparkle." Baroness Saved bowed her head and closed her eyes, before taking a breath. When she opened them again she smiled, just a little. "I don't pretend to understand what you must feel right now, Twilight. I wanted to speak to you of these matters so that you might be kept aware of them. If I seem a little overbearing, it's only because I'm used to dealing with ponies who examine your motives every time you buy a sandwich."
"Fortunately I don't have to deal with ponies like that much," said Twilight. "And I'm fairly certain Der—her Highness won't concern herself with them either."
A gust rattled the windows with a fresh torrent of rain, silencing the pair for a moment. Baroness Saved turned her head to watch the rain as it sluiced down the window, and let out another deep sigh.
"She would do well to pay them heed, Twilight. The disappearances left a power vacuum, and for every noble seeking the Crown's favour and influence, there is another seeking to snatch anything they can get their teeth on in order to fill that vacuum and elevate their station. Some even have their eyes on the seat of Canterlot itself. They will use whatever means they can to take that power, Twilight." A hoof strayed to Baroness Saved's mane, and she toyed idly with a lock of it, before abruptly pushing the hoof back against the couch. "I only wish more of we mortals deserved the trust you place in her Highness."
Another brief smile played across Baroness Saved's features as she stood. She trotted for the door, but paused at the threshold to look back at the room; first at the crest in the corner, and then at Twilight. A final smile and a bow of her head, and the Baroness was gone, with the door closing quietly behind her.
Twilight leaned back in her couch, and contemplated the door for a few moments.
"I wasn't prepared for any of this," she muttered, as she turned her gaze to the rain outside.
Thunderous tremorous timorous rumblings falling cascading 'gainst crusted dusty glass, dashing hopes and dreams of splendour and majesty 'neath icy bleak blank and endless never halting swaying billowing bloated—
"Honey, you're rambling again."
Written Script pulled his snout from the window of their private compartment aboard the Friendship Express. After a pause in which to examine his reflection in the chilly glass, he forced a grimacing smile to his face, only to give it up a moment later. He turned to face his wife.
"Sorry. I didn't realise." His foreleg slipped around Golden Harvest's withers, dipping beneath the curls of her sunset-bright mane, and the pair snuggled closer together on the seat.
After a languorous stretch and a sigh, Golden Harvest said: "You should probably write that stuff down instead of just saying it out loud like that."
"Maybe. It just sounds better with a voice behind it. Besides..."
Written Script paused as he felt his wife's body tense beneath his gentle embrace. He turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow.
"You only complain about it when you're nervous," he concluded.
"Nervous? Why would I be nervous? Just because we're travelling alone to Canterlot on a train full of guards when everypony said the trains wouldn't be running for another week, for an audience with a princess who nopony has ever heard of before today?"
As she spoke, Golden Harvest's hoof twirled into her mane, twisting a lock of it into a loop about her fetlock so that cascaded down her leg like a never-ending river of—
"Anyway, you're nervous too. You always get poetic when you're worried about things."
"I don't know what you're talking about," replied Written Script. He settled back against the seat, tugging Golden Harvest along with him until they were cuddled together in the corner.
They remained like that for a while, content to enjoy one another's warmth against the wintry rain that fell outside. Written Script couldn't help find looking out at it, though. The darkness, the wind, and the constant clatter of rain and ice on glass brought to mind the chill night that had so recently gripped Ponyville. The town had fared better than most, thanks to the unswerving dedication of their pegasi, but they had not survived unscathed.
Something tickled at Script's cheek. He rubbed at it with his wrist, and found his coat wet when he pulled it away.
"You see?" Golden Harvest poked him in the rib, then nuzzled closer to his neck and wrapped both her forelegs around his barrel.
"I still think they'll turn up," Written Script said, though there was little conviction in his voice. He pulled his gaze from the window and let his head flop against the seat. "You heard the rumours."
"Ponyville is nothing but rumours these days. All we know for sure is that they disappeared and now the whole town is crawling with Royal Guards. That isn't normal, even for there!" Golden Harvest's grip on Written Script tightened a fraction. "They're looking for something. Or they found something."
Golden Harvest glanced to the window, but if she had expected a flash of lightning or a rumble of thunder, she would have been seriously disappointed. After a moment she sighed and let her head fall back against Written Script's neck.
The warmth of her breath tickled Written Script's coat. He felt her huff and snuffle, and then shift her weight as she peered up at him.
"You'll have to accept it sooner or later, honey. Nopony saw when they left or where they went, and that mare could get herself lost in her own living room. Out there—"
"We don't know anything," Written Script shot back.
Again they fell silent, listening to the rain and the muted rumble and tump of the tracks as the train forged onward. Before long, Written Script found the combination of repetitive noise and the warmth of his wife lulling him to doze. He let his eyes close. Sleep eluded him, however, as each time he fell toward it he found the same image waiting, of a slender grey body in a frozen field, cuddled up around the tiny form of his only daughter.
The jerk of a crossing switch shook him from his near-slumber. Written Script glanced at the window, expecting to see the same endless, dreary darkness of the storm. Instead he was met by a sea of glittering light as their train edged around the mountain toward Canterlot. Pinpricks of light dotted across the plateau behind Canter Peak marked the estates and great homes of the rich and powerful, though as many were black and deserted by their owners as lit. High above it all, clinging to the mountain and lost amongst the clouds, a golden beacon of light shone bright and clear.
He shook Golden Harvest awake and pointed silently at the rain-shrouded palace towering above, but she just snorted and looked away. Her focus had turned to the station as they approached. It too was wreathed in golden light, but apart from a few guards waiting stoically in the pouring rain, the platform was deserted.
Their train leaned to a halt on squealing wheels and protesting brakes, drawing their coach level with the main entrance to the station's ticket hall. Without a word, the pair trotted from their compartment and down the corridor, halting only briefly at the door to survey the world, before stepping out into the rain. Before their hooves even hit the stone platform, a pony in a fine suit was at their side, brandishing an umbrella in his magic to ward off the rain. They crossed the platform in silence. Guards at the door stood still as statues as Written Script and Golden Harvest passed them by.
Within the hall they found a trio of ponies waiting; a mare in a slightly crumpled suit and two stallions in some sort of formal dress uniform. Written Script found his gaze drawn to the insignia slung across their chests on thick bronze chains, of three sunstones glowing with hidden light, set in a polished peytral. The mare was likewise decorated, though her chain was silver twined with gold.
The mare looked at Written Script and Golden Harvest in turn, nodding to herself, and spoke.
"Good afternoon, I am secretary Coconut Cream. Do I address myself to Written Script of the Duchy of Ponyville, sir?"
"Duchy of... um... sure, I guess." Written script nodded and smiled, eager to maintain a positive relationship with the newcomer. "Is this—"
"And to Golden Harvest, also of the Duchy of Ponyville?"
"There's no Duchy of Ponyville," said Golden Harvest. "Ponyville is an incorporated provincial municipality, not some aristocrat's playset. We have elections! And a mayor!"
"Forgive my impertinence, ma'am. I will try to remember that in future," Coconut Cream replied slowly. She flipped through her papers, sniffed quietly and nodded again. "As long as you are Golden Harvest."
"Of course I am! What do I look like, some sort of carrot... top?"
The mare smiled and tucked her papers into a pocket of her suit. "Of course not, ma'am. Now, as you are no doubt aware, you have been summoned to attend to her Excellency the Regent and the Court. We are here to escort you to the palace."
"Regent?" Written Script shuffled up to Coconut Cream's side as they were ushered toward the exit. "I thought we were coming to see the new Princess."
"Indeed not," Coconut Cream huffed. "The Privy Council saw fit to appoint a Regent while preparations were made for the coronation of her Highness. I had assumed you were aware that she has yet to formally take the throne. Again, forgive my impertinence."
Coconut Cream fell silent as they stepped out of the building. Rain pelted the exposed walls, driven by a steady wind that stood little obstacle across the broad plaza beyond the station. A sheltered walkway brought their group to the side of a black coach, hitched to the back of a pair of stallions, who stood dour-faced within the folds of their thick, grey greatcoats. If the rain affected them in any way, they steadfastly refused to acknowledge it.
Their escort fell back to help Golden Harvest into the coach, and followed behind Written Script as he settled himself into the spacious interior compartment. Their guards each tugged a rain cloak from some compartment on the side of the coach as Coconut Cream clambered through the door.
"Aren't they coming with us?" Golden Harvest waved toward the read window, as the coach rocked away from the station.
Coconut Cream raised her eyebrows briefly. "They are more effective an escort if they remain outside."
"Oh."
The chilly silence drew Written Script to cuddle closer to his wife. The two shared a tense look, unable to put words to the question both wanted to ask. After a moment, Golden Harvest shook her head before lowering it to Written Script's side. He mirrored the act a moment later, and turned to look out of the window at the passing city.
Now and again they came across a burned out store or a blocked-off road. Rain obscured most of the view, but it was impossible not to spot the charred shell of the great Royal Opera House as it hove out of the gloom. The three watched in silence as they passed and was lost to the rain.
They were closing on the gates of the palace when Coconut Cream took a sharp, short breath and leaned slightly toward Written Script. Her mouth opened slightly. She hesitated, frowned, and then leaned back again to watch Written Script through narrow, guarded eyes.
The gates were already open, granting the coach easy access to the palace grounds. Scorch marks marred the gilt decoration of the gates and their thick stone posts, and there were places where the wood had been cleaved by blades, or shattered beneath the hooves of an attacker.
"I heard rumours there had been some trouble in Canterlot," Written Script said as the gates fell behind. "I didn't think it'd got this bad."
Coconut Cream nodded, humming her agreement. "It was a period of some... disharmony. How much were you told of what transpired here?"
"Barely anything," Golden Harvest muttered. She lifted her head from Written Script's side to glare at Coconut Cream."The local Guard station declared martial law the day after the sun set and put us all on a curfew, as if that would have made any difference. Did they expect any rational pony to go out in that mess? I thought the world was ending!"
"All we heard was that the Princesses disappeared and that somepony had been found to replace them," Written Script said, while placing a calming hoof on Golden Harvest's side. She grumbled something unrepeatable, but otherwise remained silent.
"You are not aware of her origin?"
Written Script shook his head and gave the Secretary a rueful smile. "Haven't a clue. We've not seen a newspaper for two weeks. Even before the curfew orders, the mail..."
He couldn't go on. Written Script closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with both hooves. In the silence that followed, Coconut Cream leaned toward them again, but before she could speak the coach rattled to a halt and the door was yanked open. A nameless, slender stallion in a grey tunic and a curled wig peered in at them. His face brightened when he saw Coconut Cream, and he stepped back to beckon the trio from the coach.
They stepped out into a sheltered courtyard, one just large enough to fit their coach and another alongside. The escort guard had already departed, a trail of water leading to a door on the far side of the yard the only sign they had ever been there. The drivers were unhitching too, as Written Script and Golden Harvest were ever-so-gently guided toward a grand door, where Coconut Cream and the nameless functionary had paused to discuss what was presumably some important matter of state.
Written Script looked up as they walked. A soaring glass roof covered the yard – or atrium, he supposed. Rain fell upon it like a river, but he could just make out the soaring towers of the palace amidst the wreath of greying cloud.
"—and then she said 'Oatmeal? Are you crazy?' Anyway I—" The functionary's head bounced as he noticed Written Script's approach. "Ah."
"We'll speak about this later, Sandy," said Coconut Cream. She touched his shoulder, just briefly, and turned as the stallion trotted away. Her gaze took in the pair; she pursed her lips and indicated the door. "Follow me please. Her Excellency awaits in the throne room."
Golden Harvest balked. "We're going to see her already? I don't even have a dress!"
"Like you ever cared about that before," Written Script shot back. He grinned in the face of Golden Harvest's silent glare. After a moment her face softened and she looked away, smiling and shaking her head.
They proceeded in silence along a broad corridor, lined with ancient tapestries that hung between slender marble pillars. The ceiling was terrifyingly high, speckled by the light of distant, slender windows set in the upper walls. The combination soon gave Written Script an unaccustomed sense of agoraphobia and claustrophobia all at once.
Soon, they reached a wide hall that ended at a set of stout doors. A few ponies lurked around the edges of the rom, conversing in twos and threes, while a pair of guards stationed either side of the arching doors carefully ignored everything around them in their apparent quest to become statues. Whispered conversations faltered as the trio passed through, and they quickly found themselves on the end of a number of questioning glances.
As they reached the far end of the hall the doors opened, swinging silently on their hinges to admit a single pony. The mare lifted her head high and grinned at Coconut Cream a she passed.
"Good afternoon, Secretary Cream," she intoned. "Lovely weather we're having."
"As you say, my lady Baroness," Coconut replied, with a slight bow of her head. She waited for the mare to depart before turning to her charges, saving a particularly penetrating glare for Golden Harvest. "Please wait here. Do not attempt to enter unannounced. You will be summoned momentarily."
With that she turned and trotted around the corner, leaving the pair alone before the great doors. Written Script could see they had been worked on recently; the crest of Celestia had been torn from the doors, or painted over perhaps; in its place, set in a golden ring, a single, featureless grey-orange sphere was fixed to the centre of each door panel. The same device was fitted everywhere else he looked, though Golden Harvest only snorted in annoyance when he mentioned the fact.
"You'd think they would have waited a bit," she muttered. "It's like they couldn't wait to be rid of her."
Written Script frowned. Before he could form a reply, the doors swung wide once again and Secretary Cream stepped out. How she had found her way into the throne room, Written Script could only guess.
"Her Excellency will see you now," she said, before promptly turning to trot back into the room in a manner that brooked no argument. Written Script and Golden Harvest followed her lead and stepped through the doors.
The throne room echoed with their hoofsteps as they crossed the broad expanse of marble-tiled floor to the throne. Behind, the doors closed with a loud clunk, while ahead Written Script could see a mare in a thick blue cloak casually trotting around the base of the dais to meet them.
"Good afternoon, Secretary Cream." Her bright magenta eyes came to rest on Written Script, and a slight frown creased her brow. "Are these..."
"Written Script and Golden Harvest of Ponyville, your Excellency," Coconut Cream replied, bobbing her head.
"Perfect! I'm so happy you're finally here!" Twilight Sparkle smiled, inclining her horn toward the pair. "Please don't feel like you have to bow, it's not like I'm a princess or anything."
"You're the regent." Golden Harvest's voice was faint, and she wobbled slightly as she spoke. She tipped her head left and then right, before looking around the throne room. Perhaps she was looking for some sign it was all a joke or a dream. Written Script couldn't blame her.
"I know, I know, not bad for a librarian, right?" Twilight smiled again, dipping her head just a little so that her mane fell across her eyes. She seemed unsure of what to say; her words were hesitant as she continued. "I realise it's kind of inconvenient to have you brought out here on such short notice. Rarity told me Ponyville managed to hold off most of the really bad weather while the sun was down, though I can't imagine it was easy. I heard Spike was going around using his fire to keep people warm—oh but listen to me, rambling on. You must be so happy to be here!"
Twilight's grin faltered in the face of their confusion. She looked across at Coconut Cream, then at Written Script again.
"You are happy to be here, right?"
"I don't... really know." Written Script shrugged. "We were told the Princess wanted us. I guess that makes us... um..."
"Honoured," Golden Harvest put in.
"Yes, honoured. Or maybe pleased?"
"If I may," said Coconut Cream. She stepped close to Twilight's side. "It is apparent that Ponyville's garrison commander has been rather zealous in application of the general curfew order. They are unaware of current events."
"But the curfew order was rescinded days ago!"
Twilight glanced at Written Script and smiled nervously before pulling Coconut Cream away to the side of the throne. A conversation of harsh whispers followed, accompanied by repeated swipes of Twilight's hoof against her mane until her forelock was reduced to a ragged mess, until finally she dismissed Cream with a frantic gesture and marched toward the pair.
"I'm really sorry about this, I thought you'd know why you were here." As she spoke, Twilight tried to flatten down her mane with her hoof. Unfortunately her efforts only served to peel more of her forelock up into the air.
Golden Harvest rolled her eyes. "So why are we here?"
"I think it would be best if..." Twilight's eyes fell, just a little. "The Princess can explain this far better than I could. I'll take you to her."
Twilight turned and walked to the rear of the throne room where two arches split the walls behind the throne. One led to a corridor; the other was sealed by a stout door that Twilight quickly tugged open, before ushering the pair through.
A silent corridor stretched away to the distance. Written Script felt his hooves bounce and sink in the thick-piled carpet as they followed Twilight; his eyes were drawn constantly to hangings and tapestries between the windows. Soon they were rising, their path following a gentle curve that grew tighter with each flight of stairs, until Written Script had entirely lost any sense of direction.
As they passed a window, a flicker of light caught Written Script's eye. For the briefest of moments the cloud parted and he saw the lights of Canterlot laid out below. Far, far below. Instinct drove him back from the window. After a moment's hesitation he forced his body forward for another look, but the cloud had moved, obscuring his view once more.
Lightning flickered in the grey blanket beyond the window, answered moments later by a low growl of distant thunder. He was joined by Twilight on one side and Golden Harvest on the other. After a moment the three moved on in silence.
There weren't many places in the palace that could provide such a sight. Written Script looked up at the tall ceilings and the opulent decorations that lined the walls, and shook his head. They had reached a place most ponies would never even dream of visiting. Perhaps this was a dream itself. Perhaps he'd fallen asleep on the train, or they were still at home and snuggled up in bed. Perhaps...
Their path levelled out into a broad, brightly lit corridor that ended against an ornate door, flanked by two very large stallions in golden armour. One of the guards smiled as Twilight approached, his expression twisting the tangle of scars that crossed his face and muzzle. The smile vanished when his eyes came to rest on Written Script, but then he looked away.
The doors opened and Coconut Cream stepped out, smiling broadly. She bowed to Twilight. The pair set to a brief whispered conversation, after which Cream bowed again and trotted away down the corridor.
Twilight turned to the pair and hesitated on the verge of speaking. Her head bowed and she stepped aside, motioning for Written Script to enter the room.
With his eye on the nearest guard, he took a tentative step. When the guards failed to react, Written Script pressed forward through the door, pausing only to check that Golden Harvest was following with him.
An office lay within. It was enormous, probably almost as large as their house – or at least that's how it felt – and furnished to an opulent degree with silk-wrapped cushions, hangings and oversized couches, but it was still an office. There was a desk, smothered in scrolls at one end, and a writing stand near windows.
As they slunk into the room, Written Script and Golden Harvest shared a nervous glance. Neither wished to break the silence. As they reached the centre, though, a door in the far wall creaked open and a trio of ponies stepped out. The most obvious was an alicorn, whose face was partially hidden behind the tresses of her flowing golden mane. Behind her walked another pony, who paused at the sight of them.
Neither really mattered compared to the sight of the third, gamboling between the pair like she owned the whole world. Written Script's legs wobbled and threatened to collapse at the sight of the little filly trotting into the room. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Not even a croak. After a shallow breath he licked his lips, and was about to try again when the filly turned her head toward him. She froze, and her eyes grew wide as the sky.
"Daddy!"
Dinky took a hesitant step. Then, squealing at the top of her lungs, she leaped across the room to collide with Written Script's chest and wrapped her forelegs around his neck.
"Dink?" Written Script looked down at the golden mane flopping against his neck, then at Golden Harvest. "What—I thought they were dead! Oh Dinky, oh sweet Celestia, I thought you were dead! How—"
"H-Honey..."
Written Script looked away from Dinky and toward Golden Harvest. His wife stood still as a statue, with her eyes fixed on the door Dinky had entered from. Her ears had fallen back and her nostrils were flaring over and over again; everything about her body said she wanted to be anywhere but that room.
A quiet cough from the door caught his attention. As his gaze came to rest on the Princess, Written Script felt his throat close up, though it might have been Dinky's grip around his neck tightening a little more. A golden eye stared back at him across a broad smile. Then the alicorn's snout wrinkled, and her forelock fell away from her face as she burst out laughing.
"Oh," said Written Script.
He twitched slightly at the sound of a crumpled thud to his side. When he turned to look, he found that Golden Harvest had fainted.
"Oh dear," said Derpy. "And I thought we were getting along so well these days."
Waking was like a door slowly opening, allowing light into a dark room inches at a time until the whole thing was revealed. Golden Harvest stretched and yawned as she slipped from her pleasant dreams. There had been a warm day, and a beach, and a bright blue sky. She rolled over, squeezing her eyes tight against the sunlight that seemed to be shining from every direction. Her hoof stretched out, but instead of finding Written Script's reassuring back, she found only emptiness.
The bed felt wrong too; lumpy and uneven. Cushions. It felt like cushions. She rolled again, trying to escape the light, but it didn't dim or fade, as if someone was holding a lantern in her face.
Then came the question of why she was still in bed when the sun was so bright, which meant it must have been late morning at the very least. Hadn't she planned to be somewhere today? Or was that yesterday?
"Carrot?"
"What," she moaned, but then paused. Nobody called her Carrot any more, except—but the voice was wrong. Familiar, but deeper and more resonant than she remembered. With a reluctant sigh she cinched an eye open.
An alicorn was staring at Golden Harvest. She was grey, with a golden mane that cascaded across her head, or so Golden Harvest's mind insisted because anything else would be crazy. At the same time her eye saw light and fire writhing in the shape of a pony and a web of silver threads stretching out in every direction, pulsing with life and energy. She looked down, following the closest thread until it disappeared into her own heart.
"Ditzy, you're on fire," she mumbled, before closing her eyes.
Golden Harvest groaned as consciousness tugged her into the waking world. When she opened her eyes, she found she was lying on a pile of cushions in a room that looked almost as big as her entire home. Towering windows dominated one wall, though the only sight visible beyond them was an ever-moving wall of grey cloud.
"—guess you have a habit of marrying mares who talk in their sleep," said the voice again. There was a hint of amusement behind it.
"Not really a habit." That was Written Script. Golden Harvest wondered with dull confusion why he wasn't lying next to her, until she recalled that she'd only dreamed she was asleep. At least she thought she had.
"Do you think she'll accept this," Twilight Sparkle asked somewhere to the left. Golden Harvest's ears twisted toward the source of her voice. "It's potentially a great deal of responsibility."
"She's fine handling responsibility," Written Script replied, slowly, as if carefully considering every word. They didn't realise she was awake yet. Golden Harvest lay still.
"There's a stipend—"
"Money isn't the issue. She'll want to do whatever's best for Dinky. We both do, but the implications..."
Golden Harvest rolled over, catching the pair by surprise, but her attention was on the pony behind them. The alicorn was back, lurking in the skin of her lost friend, though she wasn't surrounded by ethereal flame this time. Before her sat Twilight Sparkle, dressed to the nines in robes that sat awkwardly across her withers and sporting some sort of medallion around her neck. Written Script was at her side. His proximity to the alicorn sent a confusing pang of jealousy through Golden Harvest's heart and before she could think, she was struggling from the cushions to confront the interloper.
Whatever she wanted to say was lost, though, when she looked up into the eye of her friend.
"I don't believe it," she said.
"I've been getting that a lot," said Derpy. She smiled again, while Golden Harvest rubbed her tired eyes and sat down on the floor.
"You're a princess," she replied. An abrupt instinct to bow was pushed aside for the moment. This was her friend, not some distant goddess. "Why was I asleep?"
"You passed out," said Twilight, turning to face Golden Harvest. "And you've been unconscious for about forty minutes. It was probably the shock of finding your friend alive."
Golden Harvest looked up at Derpy's face. Up. Way up. "I don't think so. You're an alicorn! How on earth—"
"Because I was there," said Derpy. She lowered her head down closer to Golden Harvest's height and smiled. Her teeth were disturbingly large. "They asked me. Kinda."
"But you can't be a princess, you're... you're you! You're the sweet little id—mare who delivers packages. Now you're telling me that you're a princess?"
"I am," Derpy replied, smiling. "And Sparkler is Duchess of Canterlot."
"Duchess of Canterlot?" When she looked up she saw Twilight nodding. "And I suppose you're going to tell me that Dinky is Duchess of Ponyville next."
Twilight cleared her throat, but turned away when Golden Harvest looked up at her. Derpy's gaze, by contrast, remained steady when Golden Harvest returned to look at her. She grinned the same infectious smile that always came out when she had to deliver a damaged parcel.
Golden Harvest stomped her hoof. "There is no Duchess of Ponyville! It's a free city! I'm in a nightmare," she grumbled as she turned away from the thing that couldn't be her friend. "That's what this is. I'm in a horrible dream. Any moment now I'll wake up at home in my own bed. We'll be getting ready to take Dinky to Horseshoe Bay for the weekend, Sparkler will be at university and you'll be banging on the door with a non-existent package because you want to give Dinky a hug before we leave."
"Goldie—"
"I won't have some crazy alicorn clone of you telling me that a child is about to be granted absolute power over my home purely on the say-so of a dead princess, and we won't be ruled over by a librarian who used to live in a tree!"
The silence that followed her outburst was filled only with the sound of Golden Harvest's panting breath. She glared at Derpy, willing her to respond, then at her husband and the little—the little pony nestled between his legs. Dinky shuffled a little deeper beneath Written Script's barrel before returning Golden Harvest's stare with a reproachful frown.
"Technically I still live in that tree," Twilight muttered.
"We're doomed," Golden Harvest said, turning away. She trotted to the window to stare out at the palace. "It'll be like the town hall on a national scale. Have you knocked down any towers yet?"
"Goldie that was one time! I pay more attention—"
"Doomed," Golden Harvest repeated. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against the glass, and felt the gentle thrum of rain on the window.
A pony sidled up to her, radiating more warmth than any pony had a right to. Golden Harvest peered out through one eye at Derpy, who had shuffled down on her knees to sit at Golden's height. She was still smiling. Did she ever stop smiling?
Did Celestia?
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you," Derpy said.
She nosed at Golden Harvest's ear. Her breath felt hot, humid, like a breeze on a deep summer day, but there was no mistaking that playful nip and tug that Derpy always employed when they'd had an argument. Golden twitched. She'd always been ticklish there.
"I wanted to," Derpy whispered. "Dinky missed you, even Sparkler missed you a bit, I think."
"The day that girl misses me is the day you grow a horn and—" Golden Harvest closed her eyes and sighed. "This is crazy."
"You should try raising the sun every morning."
Golden Harvest bolted upright. She stared up at the shrouded sky. "Please tell me you're not going to drop it on us!"
"It doesn't work that way."
Derpy dropped her wing across Golden Harvest's back. Always had been a big hugger, Golden Harvest thought, but she wasn't going to protest this time. And then she heard the patter of little hooves and felt a squirming bundle burrow into the tiny space between them. Dinky popped up onto Golden Harvest's back and caught her neck in an inescapable embrace.
"Hug time!" she yelped, and then took a flying leap onto Derpy's back, where she snaked into the tresses of Derpy's mane.
Nothing had changed, but something felt different then, though Golden Harvest had no idea what it could be. She leaned up against Derpy's side, pondering the unusual warmth of her friend.
"What's it like?" Golden Harvest looked up at Derpy's face and found the familiar, every so slightly vacant expression Derpy had when she was thinking.
Then the smile returned. Derpy closed her eyes. "It's amazing. I feel everything all at once, and I love it all at once."
"Oh."
"Maybe one day I'll find a way to show you." Derpy pulled back her wing, then paused to twitch her head as Dinky finally came clambering out of her mane. "You know, you haven't asked why you're here."
"I guess I had a few things on my mind," Golden Harvest replied. She looked over her shoulder at Written Script and Twilight, still lurking near the far wall. "Okay. Why am I here? And don't try and give me some smartass philosophical answer, you know I hate those."
Derpy laughed. It was meant to be a quiet chuckle, but her sheer size amplified it to booming laughter that echoed briefly around the room, even rattling the windows. Written Script clapped his hooves over his ears; Twilight only winced, though perhaps she was used to it.
Atop Derpy's head, Dinky burst out laughing. "Again!"
Golden Harvest shook her head, trying to quell the ringing in her ears. "Well that settles it. Only you could accidentally blow out everyone's ears with a giggle."
"Sorry," Derpy said, smiling sheepishly. She lowered her head to let Dinky roll onto the carpet, where the youngster took off for the other side of the room, singing loud and bright.
"So. Why are we here?"
Derpy snorted and shook her head. "Would you believe we need a sitter?"
Golden Harvest's ears perked upright. She hadn't even realised they were lying flat. "You brought us all the way here to foalsit? That's a heck of a commute..."
"That's not quite what they want," Written Script said. It was the first time he'd spoken since Golden Harvest had fully awoke. He shuffled his hooves and then trotted over to the window.
She turned to meet him. "Honey, you look like you're about to tell me you're dying."
"That's because you might want to kill me," Written Script replied. He bit his lip. "It's about that duchess thing. Just hear me out," he added quickly, before she could even think to react. "Because it's important."
Golden Harvest grit her teeth. "Go on."
Before he answered, Written Script turned to look out of the window. He stared up at the sky, then turned his attention to the faint glow of the city lurking beneath the clouds. "There's some sort of law, something about looking after land or responsibilities, or whatever, but it means Dinky has to spend at least a third of every year in Ponyville."
Golden Harvest tapped her chin. "That doesn't sound so bad. She's already spends more time than that with us."
"Yeah, but... well..." Written Script turned a pleading face to Twilight. The archmage—librarian—whatever she was, rolled her eyes and moved a few steps toward them.
"What Written Script is trying to tell you is that Dinky has to be appointed a Steward until she's old enough to take the ducal throne—"
"There's a throne?" Derpy blinked as everyone turned to look at her. She smiled and bowed her head briefly. "Sorry. Go on, Twilight."
Twilight nodded her thanks. "We thought that the best option would be to appoint Written Script to the position. He can oversee her major responsibilities, liaise with the local government and prepare for her eventual coronation. He'll also have to spend a significant amount of time at the palace."
"The palace. You mean here?"
Twilight nodded. "His responsibilities will require he remain with Dinky even when she's living in Canterlot. Since she lives in a suite in the palace, he'll have to live there with her as well."
Golden Harvest turned back to the window. She could see the room reflected behind her, Derpy to her left, Written Script to her right. And there she was, stuck in the middle, with Dinky squeezing in between her legs while she narrated an adventure to herself.
At the palace. She turned to look at Derpy. At the palace...
"It's not that I don't trust you two," she said, turning her attention to Written Script. "But there is absolutely no way in tartarus I am letting you spend time alone with her."
"But honey—"
"No, it's not right," Golden Harvest persisted. She glanced at Derpy. "I'm afraid you're just going to have to accept that I'll be coming here with you."
Written Script opened his mouth to protest, then frowned, drawing his head back. He looked at Twilight, then at Derpy, then back to Golden Harvest. "Huh."
"So." Golden Harvest turned around to face Twilight. "About that stipend."
* * *
The sun shone.
Derpy had spent so long beneath the clouds shrouding Canterlot that she had almost forgotten how it felt to have that bright heat on her back, burning at her coat until it seemed that it should be on fire. Whatever she was now, in her heart Derpy was a pegasus and the sun-seared sky was her domain, her home. Maybe her life.
Pegasus instinct spread her wings as she stepped from the shadow of Ponyville's town hall and into the light of a warm summer day, and that was good. But now she could feel new instincts, new sensations. The earth beneath her hooves radiated its life to her, every blade of grass and every flower, even the tiniest motes of life, filling her with the joy of its growth and existence. The air glowed with ethereal mists and lines and webs of energy, as magic poured through her and through the world.
Ponies were tangled knots of life that moved and touched and merged and broke apart as they passed back and forth. The world was a cats-cradle of shimmering, cascading light, everywhere she looked.
It was no wonder Celestia had always smiled.
Derpy closed her eyes. When she opened them again she was faced with the green grass of the town square and a crowd of ponies held at a respectable distance by ranks of guards. They were cheering.
There was a dais by the river, flanked by grand pavillion tents and standards that fluttered in the warm breeze. Such a change from the chill skies of her new home. Behind the dais and the throne that stood upon it, she could see a half-dozen ponies bearing the regalia of her office on a series of bright red cushions, which Derpy supposed she would be expected to wear every day after this one. A torc, shoes, robes, some sort of sceptre.
A crown.
It looked very heavy.
For a moment Derpy fought the urge to turn, to flee to her little house on the other side of town. To hide.
"I don't think I can do this," she murmured to Twilight, who marched at her side bearing a check-marked and ink-splattered scroll
Twilight tipped her ears toward Derpy, though she kept her eyes forward. "You can do it. Everypony here is behind you."
"Ponies are normally only behind me when they're chasing me with repair bills," said Derpy. Twilight didn't answer again.
The dais was closer now, close enough that she could see apple blossoms that had fallen to it from a nearby tree that was – somehow – in full bloom. That was probably the work of Twilight or one of her friends, because there weren't supposed to be any apple blossoms. Or apples, but she could see a few of those lurking amongst the branches as well, ripe and red and fat as a well-fed foal.
The mayor was already on the dais, chattering away to an old stallion in a plain white robe. A priest. Why was there a priest? Hadn't they all been calling her a demon a couple of weeks ago? But he looked nice and friendly, and he smiled as the mayor exclaimed the punchline of whatever joke she had been telling. Perhaps he was a nice priest.
Then they were mounting the dais, and the priest and the mayor were bowing and scuttling away to the side, and Twilight had disappeared somewhere with her scroll. Derpy turned, circling the low stage until she found herself looking at rank after rank of ponies. Some of them were friends, some just familiar faces from the edges of her world. Some she had never seen before in her life. They all shared one thing in common, though: They couldn't believe it either.
She swallowed and looked away. To her left, Sparkler, Written Script, Golden Harvest and Dinky were seated in the shade of one of the pavilions. Dinky was staring at her and waved at the very moment she caught Derpy's eye. Derpy smiled and half-lifted her hoof to wave back, though she had no idea if she was allowed to move.
At her right, when she turned, she found Twilight conferring with the priest and the mayor. Twilight was waving her scroll and pointing at it like it was the only thing in the world. They didn't look at Derpy once.
To pass the time and avoid looking at the crowd, she had taken to watching the the sky and the occasional cloud as it scudded past, and wondered if she would ever have to take on weather duty again. It seemed unlikely. She began to hum quietly as a particularly fat little cumulus drifted by. It took a few moments for her to realise that someone was whispering her name very quietly.
Derpy looked down to Twilight, who was tapping her hoof and wearing a grumpier face than Dinky when she had been denied ice-cream. Behind her the old priest was looking thoughtfully at the sky. Derpy bit her lip and looked back at the assembly.
The crowd watched her. She heard the quiet thud of hooves, and saw several of her guards in bright ceremonial armour stomp into position on either side of the crowd, with Sure Stride at their head. He saluted and then bowed to her. For a moment he smiled too, but then looked away.
Derpy waited for him to look back again, to offer her another of those encouraging smiles, but his eyes remained locked on some distant part of the horizon. Reluctantly she tore her gaze from him. She had never felt more alone.
"Citizens of Equestria," the priest boomed, with a voice as gravely as the river bed behind Derpy. "We are gathered before sun and moon to witness the coronation of our new Princess. I present to you now Thunderpeal De Raptura, your undoubted ruler, who stands before you in pledge to your service and care. Are you now willing to do the same?"
The crowd let out a roar of agreement, surprising Derpy into an involuntary step back. She shook her head and tried to hide the shock on her face, and carefully fluffed her wings as if that had been her intention all along. From the look of a few of the ponies in the front row it was clear she wasn't fooling anyone.
Oh well.
By then the old priest – she was sure Twilight had mentioned his name, but it had slipped her mind entirely – had moved to her side, and was half-facing her. The breeze had caught his pale blue mane and lifted it about his ears, but he didn't seem particularly worried about it as he continued speaking.
"Thunderpeal De Raptura, by right of ascension and the grace of harmony, you stand before this assembly of the tribes and the peoples of Equestria, here to be crowned judge and executor of their will. Are you now prepared to take upon your back the yoke of these peoples?"
He turned his head fully to look at her, and under his gaze her mouth dried out like a cake left in the oven too long. She swallowed, and forced her tongue briefly between her lips to wet them, and nodded. "I am."
"Therefore you must take this oath." The old priest nodded slowly, turning back to the crowd. "Do you solemnly promise to cherish and love, guide and protect, and govern the tribes of Equestria, and the peoples of the same, in justice and harmony?"
"I promise I shall," she said quietly. Her voice echoed back as she looked over the crowd, their silence so absolute that even the slight rustle of grass in the breeze sounded like a roaring tumult.
"Do you swear to uphold the laws of the Great Union, without privilege or partiality, and to execute justice, fairness and law in all your judgements?"
A peculiar warmth spread across her belly, and then felt as if it were twisting up her gut. Derpy swallowed and nodded, trying to remember the answer Twilight had coached her to give. "I-I swear it."
"Will you maintain the settlement of Union, and the sovereignty of the nations of Equestria?" Again the old priest turned to her. His eyes danced as he spoke. It seemed he was enjoying this rather more than she was, but perhaps it was just because he was doing something no pony would get the chance to do again. "Will you preserve the harmony of the land, and uphold the unity of that bond? Will you bear the burdens of your role, with grace and forbearance, for all time? Will you carry the light of harmony to the world, as you bear the light of the sun to her face?"
"All these things I p-promise," she squeaked. A hot flush rose on her cheeks, but the old priest gave her an encouraging smile and bowed his head just a fraction before turning away again.
"You have sworn oath before this assembly," he called, his voice rising over the crowd. He stepped away from Derpy's side and lifted his head. "Now come before them and lower yourself, for though you rise above us, though you cast power before us, though you stand firm before us, we are your equal and you are ours."
Before the echo of his words had died down, a quartet of ponies – two earth ponies and two pegasi – crowded to Derpy's sides and ushered her from the dais to the crowd, before halting her a few steps short of the first rank. Two unicorns approached, each followed by more ponies bearing the regalia, including the ring she had worn on her horn that first day. Behind them came yet more, bearing a broad, wool-lined cloak of blue silk across their backs. They gathered around her in a circle, each bowing to her as they halted.
Silence fell as everyone looked at her, waiting for her to act. Derpy couldn't move; she had no idea what was meant to happen next. After a moment one of the unicorns leaned toward her, and commanded her in a harsh whisper to kneel.
"Oh. Sorry," she muttered, bending her forelegs. For a moment her back legs refused to cooperate, splaying out to either side, and she had to flare her wings for balance until her belly touched the ground. The unicorn rolled his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself.
The first of the bearers stepped forward, holding the torc aloft in his magic. It slid over Derpy's head and down to her chest, settling cold and heavy against her throat. It was followed by the ring, which slid onto her horn far too easily for a thing so significant; and the cloak, which was pulled across her shoulders and clasped to the torc with a series of quiet snicks, like a lock and chain being drawn tight about her.
The crown came last, floating over her head in a soft magenta glow that she would recognise anywhere. Derpy rolled her eye around until she saw Twilight in the crowd of ponies surrounding her. The archmage winked and grinned, while the priest's voice boomed over them.
"Thunderpeal De Raptura, by the grace of harmony and the assent of this assembly, by Parliament, by Treaty, and by the People, I crown you Princess of the Union of Equestria, Queen Regent of the Kingdom of Canterlot, Duchess of the Hesperia and the Bit Islands, Lord Commander of Pegasopolis and the Guard, Grand Baron of Mane Valley, Protector of the Realm, Bearer of the Yoke of Harmony, Carrier of the Solar Orb, Unity of our Tribes, and Guiding Light of our Peoples. May your reign be eternal, and may your light ever be undimmed!"
The tone of Twilight's magic shifted fractionally. Derpy closed her eyes as the weight of the crown settled on her head, just behind her horn. She felt a tickle on her cheek as a tear broke free of one eye, and then the other. When she opened them again, the attendants had left her facing the crowd alone. They were still watching her; rank after rank of impassive, silent faces, all staring right at her.
Carefully, to avoid rocking the crown that felt so precarious across her skull, she lifted her head and then awkwardly raised herself up to the sound of stomping hooves and cheering voices. As she stood, she heard the clatter of tiny hooves on wood. Dinky leaped toward her and clung to her foreleg, giggling and chattering so fast that Derpy could barely understand her.
Much as she wanted to stay like that, Derpy leaned down to nuzzle her daughter away from her leg, and quickly wrapped the little filly in one of her wings. She turned to the crowd again as their cheering redoubled, and hesitantly raised her hoof.
